Archer
by President Luthor
Summary: Presumed dead, Oliver Queen the future Green Arrow arrives in Smallville to reclaim what is his: a family fortune stolen by Lionel. Clark discovers a rift between Queen and Bruce Wayne. Old demons awake, and Clark must cope with the fallout.
1. CH 1

TITLE: "Archer"  
  
PG-13  
  
The usual disclaimers apply.  
  
BACKGROUND: Oliver Queen disappeared in the South Pacific during a solo yachting race. One year has passed: he has returned from his watery grave. Back from the dead. During his absence, Lionel Luthor has seized much of his family's fortunes. The Star City industrialist has arrived in Smallville to take back what belongs to him. Lex values him as an old friend, but is he willing to challenge Lionel once more to recapture Oliver's inheritance? The shadow of the bat lingers still, and Clark learns of a rift between Bruce and the future Green Arrow. Old demons awake ... can Clark grapple with the fallout?

Chapter 1

[The Talon, Smallville]  
  
Lex strolled into the coffeehouse, with one ear to a cellphone and his eyes focused on the headline of the Daily Planet's early edition rolled in his hand:  
  
_'STAR CITY INDUSTRIALIST FOUND! Queen rescued from tropical island_'  
  
"Good morning, Lex," Lana beamed. "The usual?"  
  
Lex, preoccupied with his phone call, nodded. He placed the paper on the counter, as he struggled to pull out a five-dollar bill.  
  
"I hold the majority of LexCorp.'s voting shares," Lex argued on the cellphone, "so what I'm saying is we don't proceed on the deal until I have a chance to address the shareholders!" He clicked off his phone, visibly frustrated with whoever was on the other line.  
  
Lana glanced at the Planet headline as she served Lex's cup of coffee. "I see you've heard about the big news today."  
  
Lex unfurled the paper. Oliver Queen, with his close-cropped blond hair and steely green eyes, stared out at him from the front page. To Lex, it was like he was staring at a ghost. Ollie was known as an adventurer: expert horseman, sailor, outdoorsman, archer, pilot, parachute jumper. He did it all. Lived life to the fullest.  
  
Lived on the edge.  
  
He was the heir of Queen Enterprises, one of the world's leading mining operations – and specializing in precious metals and diamonds. The world was his playground ... and did he play! Whether it was the opening of a new mine in Asia or a branch plant opening, Queen always did something flamboyant – arriving on an elephant, or sky diving to the press conference – to sell it to the media. And, not surprisingly, he'd have either an up- and-coming starlet or model on his arm.  
  
That life disappeared one year ago. Queen had joined a round-the-world yachting competition. The winning purse was $1 million, but he could care less about the money. He wanted to push his limits, as he sailed solo from New York City, beyond South America and into the South Pacific. His last online journal reported he was about 100 nautical miles southwest of French Polynesia.  
  
"I never knew you were a friend of Oliver Queen?" Lana inquired.  
  
"We traveled in similar circles," Lex admitted. "During my misspent youth, Ollie was my partner-in-crime. From Star City to New York to Venice – and all points in-between – we caused quite a stir. I can't recall how many boarding school headmasters we terrified back then."  
  
"And you miss those times?" Lana grinned.  
  
"No, I don't," Lex stated, "because of what I was then. I like who I am now. But ... I do miss Oliver. He was one of the few friends I had when I was younger. When his yacht vanished in the South Seas during tropical storm Gayle, I realized that I might never have a friend like him again: someone who shared my own flaws and grappled with them. LuthorCorp., under my father's direction, launched a hostile takeover of Queen Enterprises soon after Oliver's disappearance and broke it into pieces. A century of Queen tradition smashed to turn a quick profit! Ollie's coming home to a weakened family company, one a mere shadow of its former glory. Lionel Luthor mercifully left him the diamond-mining operation, but he took everything else. 'Stole' would be more appropriate. Now that Oliver Queen has risen from the dead, perhaps we can have a reunion. And, hopefully, we can reclaim what he has lost. Maybe I'll throw him a party in Metropolis."  
  
Lana gazed at the front page. Queen, as described by Lex, was a larger-than- life figure. Full of confidence. But the picture didn't reflect that. His green eyes seemed pained. Troubled. One year in isolation on a deserted island would do that to you, she mused.  
  
"That would be quite a party," Lana noted, as Lex finished off his cup of coffee.  
  
"You can find out for yourself," Lex smiled, "because you'll be invited. I'd better book Luthor Hall at the museum today. There's catering, press conference details ..." He gathered his briefcase and picked up the paper. "Thanks for the coffee."  
  
When Lex left, Lana turned up the television volume. All the networks had covered Oliver Queen's triumphant arrival yesterday at Seattle International Airport. In one report, Oliver carefully held the stair railings as he slowly stepped off the airplane. He didn't seem confident at all. Would he even be the same man that Lex remembered, she wondered, after what he's been through?  
  
[Wayne Enterprises Building – Metropolis]  
  
Lucius Fox stacked the pile of speeches atop the table. Mr. Fox was Wayne Enterprises' chief operating officer: the engine behind one of America's dominant corporations. He was a stickler for details, deadlines and returns on investment.  
  
Clark shuddered at the growing tower of paper. He was glad to help out Bruce, who had become a close friend over the past two years. Bruce had been involved in a car accident on a lonely Smallville road, and Clark had rescued him. No one knew that he had used his special abilities to save Gotham's favourite son.  
  
Yet.  
  
But he couldn't help but wonder if Bruce knew more than he was letting on. Lex had attended boarding schools with Wayne, but Clark could never tell if they were still pals or rivals. Their world – one of glittering galas, corporate takeovers and paparazzi – seemed distant and alien.  
  
Lucius laughed. "You sure you can handle all those speeches, Clark? Bruce is speaking at Metropolis U., there's the Board of Trade meeting, a half dozen press releases ..."  
  
I could proofread and edit those documents in 5-10 minutes, Clark thought. But Lucius Fox doesn't need to know that. "I'll just prioritize them. Fit in the work in between my chores, schoolwork, Torch articles ... I'll have them done, Mr. Fox. By Friday."  
  
"Now that's the can-do attitude I wanted to hear!" Lucius exclaimed. When Clark stuffed the documents into his backpack, he opened the door. There, on the floor, he picked up the morning editions of the Gotham Times and the Daily Planet.  
  
"Extra, extra," Clark mumbled, as he read the front page:  
  
"_QUEEN ALIVE! - HEIR TO MINING EMPIRE FOUND ON DESERTED ISLE_"  
  
"So, he's alive after all," Lucius muttered.  
  
"I guess Bruce will be glad to hear that his old friend is alive," Clark added, but Lucius' glare quickly silenced him.  
  
"I guess Bruce didn't tell you," Lucius frowned, as he skimmed the front page of the Planet.  
  
"Tell me about what?" Clark wondered.  
  
"I probably shouldn't get into much detail," Lucius hesitated, "but you're his friend. You should know. No need for you to get blind-sided. In some ways, Oliver Queen, Lex Luthor and Bruce Wayne are cut from the same cloth. Born into a life of privilege, but raised to understand that such status comes at a price. Bruce knew that price all too well ..."  
  
Clark paused. "I ... didn't mean to pry into Bruce's past ..."  
  
"No, it's nothing you couldn't find out by reading the papers," Lucius remarked. "I guess Bruce grew up quickly because of the tragic loss of his parents. He took that responsibility – to uphold the family's honour – seriously. Oliver Queen, in contrast, was reckless: an adventurer, a playboy. He lived for the moment ... and to hell with how it reflected on his family. He had much more in common with your buddy, Lex, than you'd realize. No one believed he could run a multinational corporation, least of all the Queens. Anyhow, three months before Oliver joined that yachting race, he had a falling out with Bruce. Words were exchanged ... and Queen vowed never to speak to Bruce again."  
  
"But I thought they were close?" Clark wondered.  
  
"So did I," Lucius replied. "But you know Bruce ... he refused to say anything more about it. 'It was a private matter', he'd say. Typical. When Oliver's yacht disappeared, Bruce pulled all the strings he had at the State Department. Obliged by some familial duty he felt he owed to the Queen family. When the navy called off the search after three weeks, we all assumed Oliver Queen was a goner. And now he's back from the dead. I don't know how Bruce will react, to be honest with you."  
  
With a slap on the shoulder, Lucius sent Wayne Enterprises' freelance editor off into the morning rush hour. Clark was troubled that Bruce hadn't mentioned this fallout with Oliver, mere months before the yacht's disappearance.  
  
Yet another skeleton in Bruce's dark closet, he thought. Perhaps Lex knew more about this alleged rift between Bruce and Oliver.  
  
[Torch office, Smallville High]  
  
"Remember, Pete," Chloe said, "I want that interview with the basketball coach. It's his third straight loss!"  
  
"I know," Pete replied. "Who'd have thought we'd have to face off against Fawcett City to stay in the playoff round?" He brushed past Clark as he left the office. "Clark Kent, you finally decided to show up. What happened – they were serving caviar at Wayne Enterprises?"  
  
"Funny, Pete," Clark grinned. "I got some proofreading assignments from Bruce."  
  
"Maybe so, Clark," Chloe stated, concentrating on the computer monitor. "But I still need 500 words on the school recycling project by Thursday." Clark seemed like he was overworked. First Lex, now Bruce. She often wondered how Clark managed to gather millionaire friends the way some people gathered spare change.  
  
Clark studied the dog-eared copy of the Planet on Chloe's desk. She had already devoured its contents this morning. "Chloe, what do you know of mining magnate Oliver Queen?" he wondered.  
  
"Oliver Queen, eh," Chloe replied. "Son and heir to the Queen family's mining fortunes, based in Star City and Seattle. They're like the Rockefellers of the west coast. Though his empire is much smaller than when he disappeared around French Polynesia a year ago. Not surprisingly, Lionel seized upon his yachting mishap to launch a hostile takeover of Queen Enterprises' manufacturing and research divisions. I think the NAFTA review board is examining if he violated any competition guidelines, but I gather it's just a formality. Most of Queen's corporate assets will belong to LuthorCorp. by the beginning of summer. The Queen clan managed to hang on to their mining operations, since that was how they built their fortune in the first place. I've heard he's an accomplished triathlete and an Olympic- level archer – which might explain how he survived one year in the South Pacific on manta rays and wild boars."  
  
Clark still looked puzzled. "Why the interest in 'Survivor' Queen?" she wondered.  
  
Clark didn't answer right away. He studied the photograph of Oliver Queen, whose green eyes seemed haunted by some hidden pain.  
  
"Oh, it's something Mr. Fox – Bruce's friend – told me," Clark finally answered. "He said they had a falling-out a few months before Queen sailed off on that solo yachting race."  
  
"Well, Oliver was Lex's party-mate when he was breaking all the rules, not to mention more than one luxury sports car," Chloe added. "Bruce never acted reckless like that. At least not in public! He seems to be more guarded, but you know that, Clark. You're one of his closest friends."  
  
Clark folded up the paper as he left the Torch office. "I am his friend. So why hasn't he told me about this rift with Oliver?"  
  
He stopped at a convenience store to pick up some gum. When he left, a taxi was parked along the curb. A tall man, with a wide-brimmed panama hat, left the cab and paid the driver the fare. The stranger wasn't from around here, Clark thought. The man had a few days' growth on his beard and moustache. His face was bronzed by the sun.  
  
When the man lifted his head, Clark saw them. Those emerald green eyes – the same haunted eyes that stared back at him from the Planet's front page a few minutes ago.  
  
Clark gasped. "You're – you're ..."  
  
"Yes, you're right," the man replied, as he extended his hand to greet Clark. "I'm Oliver Queen. The reports are true. I'm back from my subtropical grave."  
  
Clark was still stunned. "Hi, I'm Clark Kent." He couldn't believe that the infamous adventurer from Star City was in his home town. "Do you know where you're going, Mr. Queen?"  
  
"The Luthor estate," Oliver replied.  
  
"I'm a friend of Lex Luthor's," Clark added. "I'll give you a lift to the estate."  
  
"Lex is here!" Oliver exclaimed. "Just like old times. I'm here to raise a little hell ... and to take back what's rightfully mine. So, you're a buddy of Lex, eh? Has he told you about all the havoc we caused when we were freshman at Metropolis U.?"  
  
"No," Clark grinned sheepishly, "but I guess I'm going to hear about them soon enough!"  
  
Oliver laughed as he stepped into Clark's truck. "And hear about them, you will! Any friend of Alexander Luthor's gotta be a stand-up guy in my book."  
  
On the drive to the Luthor estate, Clark thought of asking Queen about his relationship with Bruce, but decided against it. It's none of my business, he concluded.  
  
Bruce valued his privacy. It was his refuge, and he deserved to keep it – even if someone like Oliver Queen had risen from the dead to raise hell in Smallville.  
  
And awaken past demons.


	2. CH 2

[Luthor estate, Smallville]  
  
Lex escorted Clark and the reborn Oliver Queen to the rear courtyard. In the distance, there was an archery range. Several arrows had already pierced their targets. Lex had been practising.  
  
Oliver slapped Lex on the shoulder, clearly pleased that his old friend was still around. Lex laughed at another joke from Star City's engaging adventurer.  
  
"Did you tell Clark about the time we crashed that sorority pledge party?" Lex snickered.  
  
"Which one?" Oliver laughed. "The one where the chancellor basically had to chase us out with his cane? Or – wait – the one where we got buried in a pool of Jello with about a dozen pledge sisters?"  
  
"Oh, man, that was quite a night," Lex remarked. "I didn't remember all the details, since I was so hammered." He noticed that Clark seemed uncomfortable with the image of his friend as an out-of-control drunken fratboy in a sorority house. He took on a more sombre mood. "I've grown up since then."  
  
"Those were good times," Oliver noted. He stared into the clear, blue sky. He was supposed to inherit the family business, one that had prospered for 100 years. He had one year in solitude to contemplate the error of his care- free days.  
  
Clark felt that he might have outlasted his welcome. Lex and Oliver had much to discuss. Lex had planned to join Oliver's quest to reclaim Queen Enterprises from Lionel's grasp. The NAFTA review board would hand down its final decision within weeks. They were running out of time.  
  
"I should get back to the farm," Clark offered.  
  
"Nonsense, Clark," Lex replied. "Stay awhile – at least until you see Ollie's archery skills. He and I joined the archery team in our freshman year. Though I must admit, I was a better fencer than him." He handed Oliver an exquisite wooden bow and a quiver of arrows. "You know, Clark, Ollie even got a nickname back then."  
  
"Oh god," Oliver groaned, as he playfully shoved Lex away. "Don't start that again!"  
  
Clark smiled. He hadn't seen Lex this happy in a long time. Who knows, he thought. Maybe Lex might become more open with his feelings. And that would be a good thing.  
  
"Ollie bested all the top archers in the Conference," Lex beamed. "And he even got an offer to join the USA Olympic archery squad!"  
  
"As an alternate," Oliver corrected him. "I turned it down. I lacked the discipline."  
  
"Anyhow, he was so good," Lex continued, "that people on campus dubbed him the 'Emerald Archer'. I'm not sure if the co-eds who called him that were referring to his archery prowess ... or his skills in their dorm rooms!"  
  
Oliver roared at the joke at his expense. "You're never going to let me live down that nickname, are you?" He notched the arrow into the bowstring, and pulled. His instincts took over. He adjusted the arc of the arrow according the distance of the target. He shifted to the right, compensating for the blowing breeze. He pulled the bowstring to its point of perfect tension.  
  
Then he released the arrow. It sailed relentlessly towards the red target. Thud!  
  
Lex ran towards the target, followed by Oliver and Clark. The arrow had just missed the centre, but he definitely pierced the outer rim of the red target. A half dozen of Lex's arrows had encircled the target, but none had hit as close as Oliver's. It was natural talent, and the Emerald Archer had barely lost his edge. Even after one year in tropical isolation.  
  
"I had to make my own bow to hunt for food," Oliver admitted. "So I guess I got more practice in the South Pacific than I'd ever get on the Olympic team!"  
  
"You're quite an excellent shot," Clark added, as he bid goodbye. "I've got to get the supplies to the farm, but I'm glad to finally meet you, Mr. Queen."  
  
"It's Oliver," he replied. "You're Lex's best buddy here. That's good enough for me, Clark." As Oliver continued practising, Lex escorted Clark to the front entrance.  
  
"I've heard that Bruce was a close friend of Oliver," Clark stated as mildly as possible. He didn't want to seem like he was prying for information, and he hoped that Lex wouldn't sense his curiosity.  
  
Lex did sense his curiosity, though. "In those days," Lex remarked, "Bruce was the spoil-sport. People always said Queen was never as mature as Wayne, even though Ollie is only a year younger. You probably heard about a rift between Bruce and Oliver ... and I know Ollie would never intentionally hurt Bruce ..." He stopped himself. I've already said too much, he feared.  
  
"I realize that your past, and those of your school chums, are none of my business," Clark explained. "But is there something I should know about their relationship, just so I don't slip up if it's ever brought up with Bruce?"  
  
"First of all," Lex replied. "You're right – it is none of your business. But you're my friend. And Bruce Wayne's. It's not fair that we exclude you from discussions because of some outdated, blue blood code of silence. Look, I wasn't there when Bruce confronted Oliver that night in Metropolis. All I know is that the argument wasn't about business. Oliver said some hurtful things to Bruce ... about his family. It was in the heat of the moment, and Ollie never really meant them ...but Bruce swore never to speak to Oliver again."  
  
"What exactly did he say, Lex?" Clark inquired, immediately realizing that he had crossed the line.  
  
"That's all I'm prepared to say, Clark," Lex stated, abruptly ending the discussion. "I'm sure you understand. Bruce is protective of his family's legacy and reputation, even in death. Bruce Wayne had watched his parents murdered before his eyes. In his mind, Oliver disturbed their peace – if only by uttering a few poorly chosen words in anger. How can anyone argue against that?"  
  
Clark sighed. "You're right. I'm sorry I pressed you about this, but it's been nagging at me ever since I met Oliver."  
  
"Trust me, Clark," Lex replied, as Clark turned on the truck's ignition. "The fireworks have yet to come. I'll be hosting a welcome back party for Oliver at the museum, to introduce him to the Metropolis elite. Here is your invitation. Bruce is expected to address Metropolis U.'s business grads tomorrow, so the museum party could be an opportunity for him and Oliver to finally mend old wounds."  
  
"After what you've told me," Clark hollered over the rumble of the engine, "is it a good idea to bring them together like this?"  
  
"I should hope so," Lex remarked, "otherwise my snafu will make quite the headline in the Planet the next day."  
  
[The Torch office, Smallville]  
  
The LuthorCorp. technicians installed the new computer equipment for the Torch. The high school was pleased that Lionel Luthor had donated some technology to them.  
  
Chloe wasn't as enthusiastic. Lionel was trying to leverage his influence to prod Chloe into investigating Clark. She felt trapped in an ethical crisis. By staying within arm's reach of Lionel, she could keep an eye on him. But, the pressure to betray her friend was almost unbearable. She didn't understand why Clark was of such interest to Luthor the Elder, but that interest was enough to make her nervous.  
  
It didn't help that Lionel was there to personally supervise the computer installation. When the technicians left, Chloe saw an opportunity to leave.  
  
"If you will excuse me, Mr. Luthor," Chloe stated, as she packed her bag. "I have to get these basketball photos developed for the next edition."  
  
Lionel laughed. "Ah yes, the downtrodden Crows' basketball team. Hardly the earth-shattering news one would expect from the Planet's newest intern."  
  
"I don't have the time or patience to trade verbal barbs with you, Lionel," Chloe snapped. "If you have something to tell me, just spit it out."  
  
"Tsk tsk," Lionel shook his head. "And I was hoping to parry your insults to pass the time!"  
  
He glanced at Chloe's desk. The Planet's late edition had a full-page photo of Oliver Queen, who had arrived in Metropolis late this afternoon. "I see that you are aware of the miraculous resurrection of Oliver Queen. It's a shame he wasn't there when I plucked his prized corporation from his wayward hands. Actually, I did him a favour. The young man, bless him, is nothing but a charlatan in trendy clothes. With a brain the size of a pea. He makes Bruce Wayne look like a savvy businessman! Queen would have run those companies into the ground if I hadn't graciously lifted the burden from his family."  
  
"Get to the point, Lionel," Chloe remarked. "What do you want?"  
  
Lionel unfolded the Planet, apparently reading the Queen story for the first time. "My allies in Star City inform me that Queen, his family and several investors are planning to reclaim Queen Enterprises. The company is all but mine, but my son seems to believe that his school-age loyalty to Queen obliges him to interfere with my acquisition. I won't bore your little head with the politics, but the long-and-short of it is that the NAFTA board is ruling on the takeover shortly. Lex has mobilized his allies in Washington and Ottawa, as have I. I can rely on my ties with the Administration, but Lex has applied considerable pressure on the Canadian prime minister. Unfortunately, it appears we are at an impasse. This is where you come in, Miss Sullivan."  
  
"What can I do?" Chloe shrugged. "High-stakes diplomacy isn't exactly in the Torch's mission statement."  
  
"Let me put it to you bluntly," Lionel smirked. "If LuthorCorp. is to become the dominant multinational corporation in North America, it must thin the ranks of the enemy. Napoleon Bonaparte found it easier to conquer Europe once he had laid waste to his European foes in the Battle of Austerlitz. With his victory, he nearly pushed Britain and her allies into the sea. I am at that point now. I've taken much of Queen Enterprises, but I need to vanquish Oliver Queen – permanently – if I am to break his stranglehold on the west coast. With that blond buffoon out of the way, that would leave only two players in the fight for hemispheric supremacy: LuthorCorp. ... and ..."  
  
"... Wayne Enterprises," Chloe blurted. "You want to use Queen as a stepping stone, to make a final push against Bruce Wayne's empire!"  
  
"Shhh," Lionel gleefully hushed. "You're getting ahead of yourself, Miss Sullivan. But you are correct! Queen and Wayne together could pose a problem. And if Lex chose to defy family loyalty and side with them ... well, I could have some difficulty."  
  
Lionel paced around the room. He slowly spun a globe, and traced the outline of North America's west coast. He didn't care if he tore apart the Queen family fortune, or destroyed a century of Queen tradition. He would have their fortune. Then, he grinned, Wayne would be isolated. That was the final goal: to break Bruce Wayne.  
  
"Oliver and Bruce have a reported rift in their relationship," Lionel observed. "I want to know if that spat still stands. If so, I want to widen it. To exploit it."  
  
Chloe scoffed at the disgusting scheme. I'm not going to help Lionel destroy Oliver Queen, she thought. "I'm not your errand girl, Lionel! You want dirt on Oliver Queen. Something that would raise doubts about his ability to lead the family firm. You must be truly afraid that the NAFTA board is going to rule against you! Find yourself another lackey, because I'm not a muckraker!"  
  
Before Chloe could storm out of the room, Lionel stepped in front of the door and grabbed her wrist. "I plan to destroy Oliver Queen," Lionel demanded. "And you are going to help me. You have to help me. Divide and conquer, Chloe. That is how I intend to thwart Bruce Wayne. He is my nemesis, and I will sweep him aside. I want to see Thomas Wayne's son grovel at my feet, on bended knee, as I scoop up his broken empire."  
  
"No!" Chloe yanked her wrist free from Lionel's grasp. "Bruce is one of Clark's closest friends. I already regret helping you with your investigations. I am not going to risk hurting either of them and become an accessory to your scorched-earth business plans!"  
  
"Give me my Austerlitz, Miss Sullivan," Lionel declared. "Give me that gateway to victory, and I promise you, you'll be the most influential columnist in North America before the age of 35! Think of it: your by-line in Metropolis, Gotham City, Star City and all centres in-between. A radio talk show, or your own magazine. Kings and presidents will beg to talk to you! Dare to dream, Sullivan. Defy me on this, and I will strip you of your reputation. A few choice words to my college dean friends, and you'll have to get your degree online. No paper in this hemisphere will hire you. Ask yourself: how can you serve the people as a journalist, if those people don't believe a word you say?"  
  
Chloe slammed the office door as he left. She felt trapped. What was she going to do?  
  
Her computer still had a web page on-screen. She knew she wasn't going to dig up dirt on Oliver Queen, but she was curious. Oliver, Bruce and Lex had been good friends as teenagers. They had attended similar boarding schools. Bruce had even taken a semester at Metropolis U., when Lex and Oliver were just freshmen.  
  
But something happened – three months before Oliver's around-the-world yacht race. There was an argument. Bruce never said a word to Queen since then. She typed "wayne queen luthor" in Google search. I'm just keeping three steps ahead of Lionel, Chloe convinced herself. I need to know 'why'.  
  
A picture appeared, dated from Lex's freshman year. It was a Planet article about some athletics reception. Lex was there, hoisting a fencing trophy in the air. Bruce was handing out the medals. Oliver Queen was standing beside his longbow, with yet another archery title. Beside him, a petite – and attractive – blond woman beamed at the camera.  
  
The caption read: "Oliver Queen, cheered on by Gotham student Dinah Lance, receives Chancellor's Medal for athletic excellence"  
  
Chloe browsed through the rest of the article, but found nothing more. A further search yielded similar stories, full of varsity hoopla – but little in facts. She scratched her head in confusion.  
  
Who is Dinah Lance, she wondered. 


	3. CH 3

[The Talon, Smallville]  
  
Lex had returned from the bank. He had just given Oliver a tour of the town and now they were stopping for lunch. He didn't feel comfortable keeping Clark out of the loop on the rift between Oliver and Bruce, and he still wasn't sure if inviting Bruce to the museum party was the great idea he once thought it was. Oliver Queen may have been a ladies' man, an adrenaline junkie and someone who chose passion over reason – but one year lost at sea had changed him profoundly.  
  
Ollie once exuded limitless confidence, Lex mused. Now, he seems tentative. Or cautious. Perhaps that would be a good thing, he thought. We need to proceed carefully if we are to take on the might of LuthorCorp.  
  
When he entered the Talon, Oliver was already at the café bar. It was no surprise that he had entangled Lana Lang in one of his conversations. Lana laughed playfully at one of his stories. Clearly, Oliver still fashioned himself as someone who relished the company of attractive women.  
  
"Lex!" Oliver called over the blaring music. "Over here! I've just met your business partner at the Talon, Lana Lang. Who'd have thought I'd find a Midwestern rose hidden behind Smallville's frontier roots."  
  
"Oh, stop it, Mr. Queen," Lana giggled. Oliver Queen was definitely a big flirt, she grinned. A flirt, but harmless. And nothing like the brooding Bruce Wayne or Lex's reserved nature (at least in public).  
  
"It's Oliver," he replied. "There'll be no further talk of 'Mister' from you, Lana."  
  
"Alright ... Oliver," Lana said, "And how would you like your coffee?"  
  
"Double, double," Oliver stated, as he settled into one of the nearby couches. Lex had planned to discuss their strategies for challenging Lionel's takeover of Queen's company, but he knew he had to bring up the 'Bruce issue' eventually.  
  
When he did, Oliver's response was expected.  
  
"That is not a good idea," Oliver shook his head vigorously. "Those things I said about his family ... he'd never forgive me now. Even if I didn't really mean it."  
  
"Which is why you need to demonstrate that you've changed," Lex pleaded. "And you have changed, Oliver. You seem more reserved than I've ever known you to be. And it pains me that you and Bruce have to remain locked in this unspoken feud."  
  
"I do appreciate what you're trying to do," Oliver nodded. "And you're right. I have changed, perhaps more than I would have wanted. I always had a zest for life. Living large. Now, I'm just glad to be alive. You heard it here first, Lex: my reckless days are over."  
  
"So what is it that you want, with this new lease on life?" Lex asked.  
  
Oliver slowly sipped the coffee. He enjoyed the aroma, its comforting warmth. He would never have paid attention to such details one year ago. Now, he treasured those small delights.  
  
"Until I was shipwrecked," Oliver noted, "I didn't appreciate all that my family – the Queens – did. Their work meant something. It represented who they are. They wouldn't join those awful clear-cutting lumber projects in Brazil. They refused to trade in conflict diamonds from the Congo. And now Lionel Luthor is going to use our legacy to fund those same schemes! I'll tell you what I want, Lex Luthor. I want my company back."  
  
"Then we are agreed," Lex smiled. "My allies on the NAFTA board will reserve judgment until we have all of our pieces on the board. Mark my words, Oliver: Queen Enterprises will be yours. If my father has declared war on you ... to hell with family bonds! I will not rest until you have what is rightfully yours."  
  
Across the street, Clark pulled up his truck in front of the photo shop. Chloe left the store with her developed photos.  
  
"Chloe," Clark replied. "I got your phone call. What is it you wanted to tell me?"  
  
Chloe hesitated. She had photocopied a few articles and photos from the Planet archive. All of them mentioned Bruce Wayne, Lex, Oliver ... and the still-mysterious Dinah Lance. She didn't want Clark to come to conclusions that might be proven false. She needed to check the facts first.  
  
"When you mentioned that you didn't know what was behind the Bruce-Oliver silent treatment fest," Chloe replied, "I thought it might have something to do with their time at Metropolis U."  
  
"Right," Clark realized. "Lex and Oliver were there at the same time. And Bruce was taking some elective courses as part of a program exchange. I know it shouldn't be any of my business ... but I feel as if I have to walk on eggshells whenever Oliver's around. I'm always afraid I might say something that could offend him, Bruce, Lex – or all three of them."  
  
Chloe sympathized with him. She often found herself in similar circumstances whenever Clark and Lana were around. Chloe, you Girl Scout, he frowned. It's up to Clark to figure out what he wants in life.  
  
Who he wants in his life.  
  
Chloe shook her head to push away those thoughts. "Clark, if you're content to be merely a peripheral friend of the millionnaires' club, then don't press this rift issue any further. If you see yourself as a real confidant and friend of Lex and Bruce, then neither of them have a right to expect you to steer clear of any controversial issues just because it's convenient for them." She seemed stunned at her own words for a moment. But Clark needed to hear the cold, hard truth. Clark was their friend: an equal partner. And not someone they can dismiss like one of their liveried servants.  
  
Clark appeared to be more resolved. "I am their friend. And you're right. It isn't fair."  
  
Chloe reluctantly pulled out one of the photocopies. "I wouldn't call this real legwork, only a lucky Google search. And I don't want you to start speculating for no reason ..."  
  
"Why, what is that?" Clark wondered, as he plucked the photocopy from Chloe's hand. He mumbled through the story. "It's all about Metropolis U.'s varsity sports. Lex was a fencer, Oliver was known as an archer. I can't see anything here that would cause –"  
  
He stopped. The photo caption read: "Queen wins another archery title. Accompanied by friend Dinah Lance, Oliver accepts dean's award."  
  
"What do those other stories say?" Clark skimmed through the other photocopies. There she was again, he noticed. That blonde-haired student, Dinah Lance.  
  
"Look, I don't want you jumping to conclusions," Chloe offered. "Maybe she's just a friend of theirs."  
  
Clark digested all that he could from the news stories. "Her name ... it's everywhere! Maybe she was the reason Bruce and Oliver had a falling-out in the first place."  
  
"You don't know that, Clark," Chloe argued. "I said you had a right not be left in the dark. But it's a fine line. Maybe they didn't fill you in because the issue is more complicated than just some girl."  
  
Clark looked at the Talon's entrance. "Well, there's one way to find out." He returned the photocopies to Chloe and marched into the café.  
  
"Clark!" Chloe protested. This is precisely what I didn't want to happen, she mumbled. Maybe this Ms. Lance had a part to play in this present rift, but she didn't have enough information to know for sure.  
  
When Clark entered the Talon, Lex and Oliver appeared to be in serious discussions.  
  
"Is this a bad time?" Clark inquired.  
  
"We'll go over those ideas another time, Oliver," Lex stated. "Not at all, Clark. Please, have a seat. I trust that you'll be able to come to the museum party tomorrow?"  
  
"I'll definitely be there," Clark replied. "It'll be a good time for you and Oliver to get in touch with your old friends from Metropolis U." Clark was hoping that Lex or Oliver would open up eventually, and tried not to appear too curious about that period in their lives.  
  
"Oh yeah, most of the gang will be there," Oliver answered. "Our frat brothers, classmates ... and hopefully, not too many ex-girlfriends!"  
  
Clark held his tongue. He really – really – wanted to find out if Dinah was one of those scorned ex-girlfriends. It wasn't his business, but his friendship with Bruce and Lex was his business. And the whole rift crisis was becoming a problem of confidence. Did Bruce and Lex not trust him, even after he had proven his loyalty many times? Trust in this town was an issue, since Clark knew he had misled Lex several times about his coincidental, nick-of-time heroics.  
  
"I'm looking forward to seeing Bruce again," Clark stated. Lex appeared to be uncomfortable, but Oliver tried to put on a brave face.  
  
"As you might gather," Oliver said, "Bruce Wayne and I have some unresolved issues. And I realize that you're a friend of Wayne's, and I have no desire to hurt him. He was – is – my friend. Even if Bruce doesn't realize it."  
  
"They'll work things out, Clark," Lex added, hoping to end this awkward thread in their conversation. "Don't worry about it. It's not your concern." Lex regretted that last remark as soon as he finished saying it.  
  
But it was too late.  
  
Bruce Wayne was Clark's close friend. They had forged a solid bond. It was indeed Clark's concern. In trying to protect his buddy Oliver's feelings, Lex had neglected Clark's own stake in his friendship with Bruce.  
  
"Not my concern?" Clark blurted. "Bruce is a good friend of mine. You're a friend of mine, Lex. And I hope to be a good friend of Oliver, in time. But Lex, you've placed unfair expectations on me since Oliver's arrival. I'm your friend. You can't just send me away like the hired help when your problems affect my friendships!"  
  
"Clark, I –"Lex began, realizing that he had overlooked Clark with all the excitement over Oliver and their plans to battle LuthorCorp. for the spoils of war.  
  
"I had no intention of stepping on toes," Oliver stated. "And I don't want to be a wedge between you and Bruce. I apologize if that is the case. But I am entitled to some degree of privacy. And some issues between us belong in that category."  
  
Clark continued his pressing. "And were one of those issues a girl by the name of Dinah Lance?"  
  
Lex and Oliver shared stunned glances. The debate had caught Lana's attention, as she brought a new pot of coffee to their table. Lex stood up and straightened his blazer.  
  
"I was going to apologize to you, Clark" Lex announced. "But that line you were afraid of crossing earlier? You've long passed it now. I don't know how you got the nerve to make such an allegation, but Oliver's personal relationships are none of your concern. Simply put: you wouldn't understand."  
  
"Understand what?" Clark demanded. "How can I understand when you and Bruce don't tell me enough to make any sense of some of your problems?"  
  
"Ever heard of the phrase 'let sleeping dogs lie'?" Lex challenged. "A word of advice, Clark: don't bring up her name again with Oliver. Ever."  
  
Clark frowned in disappointment, once he saw Oliver's face. The mere mention of that girl's name had stung him. He was not prepared to discuss her, Clark realized, but I got so caught up in the moment that I made of mess of the whole thing. Now, they won't confide anything to me, he feared.  
  
"What did you say to them?" Lana wondered.  
  
"More than I should have," Clark grumbled.  
  
Chloe had seen the argument from the Talon's front window. She was about to go inside when Oliver Queen stormed outside and walked down the block. Lex tried to catch up with him, but collided with Chloe. Her photocopies scattered all over the sidewalk. Chloe tried to pick them up, but Lex had already gathered most of them.  
  
"Sorry, Chloe," Lex explained. "Clark still needs to learn a thing or two about minding his own business ..." He glanced at one of the photocopies, and his mood soured. He had found where Clark had learned about his bombshell information. And who found that info.  
  
"It appears you need to learn that lesson, too, Miss Sullivan," Lex growled. "Oliver's college social life is out-of-bounds for the Torch and would seem to exceed the school paper's mandate. Stick to coverage of the senior prom and the Crows' basketball woes." He tossed the photocopies at Chloe and caught up with Oliver.  
  
Clark raced outside to try to make amends, but Lex's Porsche had screeched away from the main street. He helped Chloe to collect the rest of the photocopies.  
  
"I pushed things too far," Clark groaned.  
  
"I warned you to be careful," Chloe replied. "And the problem is, there is no wrong party here. Wayne and Queen have as much right to privacy, as you have a right to remain in the loop of your friends' ups-and-downs."  
  
Clark sighed in frustration. Chloe couldn't be faulted for being curious. Heck, everyone in town was curious. But he seized upon her – so far – unproven discovery and forced the rift issue.  
  
Lex was right. The fireworks were yet to come, and the museum party was still one day away. Then, Bruce and Oliver would have no choice but to resolve their problems ... or end their friendship forever.  
  
[Metropolis University, Metropolis]  
  
The clocktower atop the Faculty of Arts and Sciences chimed 5 p.m. The rusted green spires of the Gothic building soared into the dusk sky, as the students below hurried home from their afternoon classes.  
  
Pete had to stop by the athletics building to interview one of the Crows' star players at their training camp. The pressure on the team was intense. Another loss to Fawcett City, and their journey to the state championship would end abruptly. Chloe saw his trip as an opportunity to look through the college varsity paper's archives ... and uncover who Dinah Lance really was. From Lex and Oliver's reaction at the Talon, she meant something to Oliver – and possibly to Bruce. She was no mere friend.  
  
But Chloe's arrangement with Lionel had clear and present dangers. She would have welcomed Pete's help, but she felt that if she told him about her investigation of Queen's college years, she may be forced to admit her other investigation: Clark Kent. Then Pete would be on Lionel's radar. Pete's loyalty to Clark was unquestioned, and he would surely take offense at any hint of Luthor collusion.  
  
"You sure you don't want to come to the gym?" Pete asked. "I could introduce you to some of the team players?"  
  
"Oh, that's alright," Chloe replied, as she crossed the grassy campus quadrangle. "I need to use the library for some research. Biology 201. Even reporters have to finish their Petri dish experiments."  
  
"Suit yourself," Pete shrugged. "I'll meet you at the coffeehouse at eight." When he disappeared around the corner of the faculty building, Chloe changed directions. The varsity paper was in the journalism department. Even though she had been to the campus before, she still felt a shiver whenever she entered the halls of the School of Journalism.  
  
"I'm back again," Chloe grinned, as she patted the school plaque on the front gates.  
  
In the lecture hall, one of the professors was debating the difference between fair comment and libel. Chloe wanted to slip into the lecture, but she had immediate concerns. She settled into one of the archives' CD-ROM terminals and began her search:  
  
ITEM SEARCH: 'wayne, queen, dinah lance'  
  
Found: 30 item(s)  
  
Interesting, she thought. The first article revealed that 20 students from Gotham State's criminology department participated in a program exchange with Metropolis U.'s justice studies department, around the time Lex and Oliver enrolled at the university. One of those Gotham students was the elusive Dinah Lance.  
  
The next link opened a large photo. Bruce, the son of legendary Gotham industrialist and State Department icon Thomas Wayne, had taken some electives at Metropolis U.'s famous Corporate Management School. He was in- training to assume the CEO's chair of Wayne Enterprises, so it was no surprise that he would educate himself in the best schools.  
  
Perhaps Bruce had taken interest in the gorgeous Dinah, who – in the following photo search result – must have set the college boys' hearts afire as a member of the house league women's volleyball squad. She studied Dinah's blue-grey eyes. What is it about you Dinah, Chloe pondered, which caught the interest of two of America's most eligible bachelors – and possibly drove their friendship apart?  
  
She heard footsteps, but assumed that it was just another student using the archives room. Her next search revealed another interesting article:  
  
'_West vs. East: High society rivals compete. Queen, Wayne finish 1 & 2 in triathlon_'  
  
In the photo, Oliver Queen reveled in the crowd's adoration ... and the attentions of one Gotham State criminology student. Dinah had her arms wrapped around the blond, athletic champion. Bruce, who had placed second, was visibly disappointed. He looked uncomfortable, forced to witness – in defeat – Queen and Lance's love-fest.  
  
"That must have really gotten under your collar, Bruce," Chloe muttered to herself. She still didn't have nearly enough information to determine why Bruce and Oliver's friendship soured, but Dinah Lance appeared too many times in this search to be discounted as a factor.  
  
"If you have any questions about Master Bruce," a voice announced in a clipped English accent, "perhaps I could be of service ... Miss Sullivan."  
  
Chloe jumped in her seat and turned around. A tall, middle-aged man in khaki pants and a smart, collared shirt stood above her. It was Alfred Pennyworth, Bruce's longtime butler and – in every sense of the word – his father-figure. "With Bruce off on academic meet-and-greets," he revealed, "I thought it would be good for me to read the news from across the pond. But your work seems more relevant to me."  
  
She was caught red-handed, she realized. So many excuses popped in her head.  
  
'I was just curious about Bruce's time in Metropolis.' No, that won't work.  
  
'Lionel's blackmailing me to help him eliminate Queen, then move against Wayne to secure his hemispheric supremacy.' Definitely not that one, Chloe concluded.  
  
She was all alone in her quest to double-cross Lionel's grand divide-and- conquer scheme. Give me my Austerlitz, he had demanded. Austerlitz was also known as the Battle of Three Emperors: those of Russia, Austria and the French. This modern day version could pit Bruce, Oliver and Lex against each other. Or they could unite against Lionel. He threatened to end her reporting dreams for good. She would plan a victory, but it wouldn't go to Lionel. Like the Duke of Wellington, she recognized that she needed help.  
  
And help, in this instance, came in the form of an English butler. Mr. Pennyworth's low opinion of Lionel was well-known. He never forgave him for slandering the Waynes in the Luthor tabloids, even after their deaths. She couldn't tell him everything, because that would tip her hand to Lionel. But she could tell Alfred just enough to help him protect Bruce from Lionel's schemes – without Lionel ever knowing that she was behind it.  
  
It was a gamble, but the alternative was victory for Lionel. That was unacceptable. I'll settle for a shade of the truth, she decided. Instead of admitting all and letting Lionel wage his secret war against Queen and Wayne.  
  
"I'm concerned about how Lionel might behave, in light of Queen's arrival," Chloe stated.  
  
"True," Alfred noted. "I am also keeping my eye on Lionel. What does this have to do with Bruce?"  
  
Chloe gulped. "Umm, because Queen, Lex and Bruce are college buddies?"  
  
"I'm not so sure about how close Lex and Bruce are," Alfred said, "but I don't think Master Bruce can count on Oliver Queen's assistance in any future showdown with LuthorCorp."  
  
Chloe was shocked. Was Alfred actually confiding in her? "But they were such close friends in college," she continued. "And even earlier, in boarding school!"  
  
"You know far too much for a simple high school paper editor," Alfred observed, but it seemed to be a compliment. "I take it you've concluded Miss Dinah Lance was the object of Oliver and Bruce's competing affections." He had noticed the photo on the screen.  
  
"It's none of my business," Chloe professed. "but Lionel will no doubt make it his business, whatever we think."  
  
"You know, he would," Alfred's eyebrow raised in suspicion. "Miss Lance was special to both Oliver and Bruce. But Oliver won her over. The rift – there were harsh words. Words I care not to repeat. But I'm certain Mr. Queen did not mean them. But Bruce, he can be so stubborn at times! He needs to have his wits about him, if Lionel is up to his usual plotting."  
  
Alfred paced around the room. Chloe Sullivan was far too nosy, in his opinion. And perhaps too smart for her own good. But she was a good friend of Clark Kent, who had become such a loyal friend of Bruce. One couldn't have too many friends in times like these, Alfred concluded. He glanced, intrigued at this brewing conspiracy against Lionel Luthor.  
  
"Keep searching those articles about Queen and friends," Alfred declared.  
  
"Excuse me, Mr. Pennyworth?" Chloe blurted. She couldn't believe her luck. Alfred had joined her quest for answers.  
  
"You heard me, young lady," Alfred grinned. "I have always wanted to expose Lionel for the reptile that he is. Queen's return is an opportunity for Luthor mischief, I'm sure of it! You keep on searching, Miss Sullivan. I'll fill in what relevant details I can. It would probably be in our best interests to keep our conspiracy to ourselves, with Bruce's stubbornness and Luthor paranoia as our biggest problems. Timing is everything."  
  
"Agreed," Chloe beamed. "I think we're going to get along just fine ... Mr.- former-secret-agent-in-Her-Majesty's-service." Alfred blanched at Chloe's snarky reply. But he let it pass ... this time.  
  
They had much work to do. 


	4. CH 4

[Kent farm, Smallville]  
  
A thin thread of sunlight lingered briefly on the horizon. Night had fallen in Smallville. With his chores done, Clark sat in his loft and opened the gold-trimmed envelope. It read:  
  
"_To: Clark Kent  
  
You are cordially invited to attend the party in honour of Oliver Queen, of the Star City Queen family. 6 p.m. Luthor Hall, Metropolis Museum. Formal attire required._"  
  
He had been excited about the party – until his unfortunate confrontation with Lex and Oliver. Now, he wasn't sure if he was even welcome there. He had pried too far into Oliver and Bruce's college past. Dinah Lance was definitely a source of tension between them. She's also causing tension between me and Lex as well, Clark grumbled to himself. Chloe had warned him, but he went ahead and crossed that fine line of privacy.  
  
I should know better, he thought, considering how much I want to keep my own past hidden.  
  
He spotted bright headlights in the distance. A car door slammed shut, then footsteps crunched on the gravel road.  
  
"Clark?" Lex inquired, as he looked through the barn doors. "Are you there?"  
  
"Lex," Clark was surprised. "I didn't expect to see you here. I wasn't sure if you wanted to talk to me, or even if you wanted me to still go to Oliver Queen's party."  
  
Lex smiled slightly. "It's a misunderstanding. I wasn't aware how strongly you felt about this situation between Bruce and Oliver."  
  
Clark climbed down from the loft. "I'm sorry about pushing the envelope with Oliver's relationship with –"He checked himself.  
  
"And you did push it," Lex stated. "But Chloe Sullivan gave you the envelope, so I can't fault you for being curious about Ms. Lance. For the record, Dinah and Oliver are not an "item" now. It's pretty hard to keep up a steady relationship when one party is shipwrecked for one year on some deserted South Pacific outpost of French imperialism."  
  
"I guess," Clark shrugged. Lex wasn't going to elaborate on Ms. Lance, and Clark was just pleased that Lex was willing to put the mess behind them.  
  
"I, too, owe you an apology," Lex extended his hand, "for not keeping you abreast of the niceties observed between the so-called Metropolis elite. But next time, whenever you feel like you want to address a sensitive issue like that ... err on the side of discretion."  
  
"Agreed," Clark shook his hand, relieved that one handshake had smoothed over the problem.  
  
Another set of headlights interrupted their conversation. The car pulled up beside the Porsche. More footstep crackles on the gravel path. Pete walked into the barn, clearly displeased that Lex was already there.  
  
"Hey Clark," Pete greeted, then out of necessity nodded at Lex. "Lex."  
  
"Pete," Lex nodded. "How's your schedule for 6 p.m.? I'm hosting a party for Oliver Queen at the museum. Would you like to go? You can ask Oliver about his motocross adventures in Brazil."  
  
For a moment, Pete thought about going. He would like to meet Oliver, who had become a legend among the extreme sports crowd. But it was a Luthor party. And he didn't need – or want – any favours from Lex.  
  
Thank god I really have something to do, he thought.  
  
"You know, I would," Pete replied, "but I'll be at the Fawcett City- Smallville basketball game. The Crows' season hangs in the balance, and all that ..."  
  
"It's too bad," Lex said, apparently disappointed that one of Clark's friends couldn't go. "Queen's quite the character."  
  
Pete couldn't stand this polite chatter. But he had to put up with it, out of respect for Clark. "Yeah, well, perhaps I'll catch him at some other event. Clark? We'll talk some other time. 'night, guys."  
  
"Actually, I've got to run, too," Lex checked his watch. "I've got to make some important calls to Congress and the Canadian trade minister. The NAFTA board will be awaiting our responses soon. Clark, we've got tuxedo fittings tomorrow morning. I've scheduled them during your spare, so I'll have the car pick you up then."  
  
Before Clark could protest the offer, Lex and Pete endured an uncomfortably long stroll to their cars. Lex's Porsche screeched away first. Not because he was in a hurry to talk to a congressman, Clark thought, but because he couldn't bear the unspoken tension between Pete and anything Luthor- related.  
  
Clark picked up the elaborate invitation again.  
  
Dinah Lance may have a role in Bruce's dispute with Oliver, he considered, but that role will have to remain silent for now. I still owe Oliver an apology.  
  
[The Sullivan house, Smallville]  
  
During the drive home from Metropolis, Pete had asked Chloe about her biology work. She could truthfully say that she had been to the library to look at a textbook.  
  
Well, truth stretched to the limit, Chloe mused as she walked the few blocks towards her house. I only stopped by the library half an hour before my rendezvous with Pete at the campus coffeehouse.  
  
Mr. Alfred Pennyworth, late of Britain's MI5 spy agency and currently Wayne's butler/bodyguard/father-figure, was mindful of his responsibilities. He would not betray Bruce's confidence, and whenever Chloe raised a delicate topic about Bruce – why did he study a subject, why did he learn this or that martial art – Alfred kept a stiff upper lip.  
  
But, in the j-school's archives room, he was glowing whenever he talked about Bruce's friendships. As if those friendships represented something happy in 'Master Bruce's' college life. Chloe found it odd that Bruce rarely smiled in any photo. Not when he was handing out medals. Not when he was photographed with friends. If he did smile, it seemed to be forced: an expected reaction for an actor playing a role. She was curious about Bruce's secretive nature, but she figured that it was not the time then to explore her theories about Wayne.  
  
She found herself laughing, when Alfred said something about picking up after Master Bruce.  
  
"It is not so amusing," Alfred quipped, "when one finds his red scarf mixed with his whites. Which would explain the pinkish hue of his linens of late."  
  
Alfred's tales fascinated Chloe. But he clammed up, she observed, when Chloe strayed too close to Bruce's private life. She had learned Oliver, Lex and Bruce had crossed paths in various European and New England boarding schools and academies. Lex and Oliver were closer friends, but Lex seemed to understand Bruce better. She realized that all he revealed was only the veneer of the truth. He would not yield anything beyond that.  
  
On the topic of Gotham State criminology student Dinah Lance, Chloe learned that Bruce had known her first – since they had gone to college in Gotham City. She has signed up for the Metropolis U. program exchange for one year, without realizing that Bruce had already decided that he needed to upgrade his degree with courses there. Alfred wouldn't say – or didn't know – how close they were, but apparently her introduction to old buddy Oliver changed everything. He literally dazzled her, and their relationship was supposedly intense. She gathered that Bruce did not like the way Oliver handled the relationship, but it still seemed vague to her.  
  
"That's all I know," Alfred concluded. "I regret, Miss Sullivan, that any further elaboration would breach the protocols I have imposed on myself regarding Bruce's privacy. I may have already said too much. Please do not inquire further about Bruce's relationships. It would only hurt him, which might affect his friendship with Clark."  
  
Alfred had invoked Clark's name, so Chloe relented. She knew more than before, but the whys still evaded her. Did Bruce truly love this Dinah Lance? Had Oliver broken some unspoken rule of etiquette among boarding schoolmates about seeing 'someone else's girl'? That would be so parochial, she smirked. She wouldn't learn about that final argument, three months before Queen's disappearance. Oliver had said something to dishonour the memory of Bruce's murdered parents. In Bruce's eyes, that could never be forgiven – and Alfred would not help to prolong this alleged slight to family honour.  
  
Chloe could barely contain her giggles, when Alfred had outlined the precise procedure for leaving the building separately ... so no one would suspect that they had been there together:  
  
"I will get up and walk for 10 minutes, towards the business school. You shall wait until then before you get up to leave. You will ensure that I am beyond the horizon before you leave the building, lest we are being watched. If you are asked if anyone was with you in the archives, you shall say: no one that I knew. Which wouldn't be a lie, because you didn't really know that I was going to be there. If I hadn't introduced myself, you wouldn't have known."  
  
It revealed that Alfred was more than just a tea-serving manservant. She imagined Agent Double-O Pennyworth spiriting Soviet turncoats out of the East Berlin, dodging sentry snipers as they hopped the Berlin Wall to freedom. He was a living John Le Carre Cold War character, she smiled to herself.  
  
Her smile did not last, as she turned the corner towards her house. Perhaps I should have let Pete drive me to my doorstep instead of just the intersection, she frowned.  
  
Chloe had pulled out her personal security alarm, but paused. Lionel Luthor appeared, like a wraith, as he stepped from behind a tree.  
  
"A lovely, late spring evening walk will do you wonders, Miss Sullivan," Lionel smirked. He was well-hidden in his dark overcoat. Chloe noticed the unmarked sedan, with its lights off on the opposite side of the street.  
  
"Have you resorted to stalking as an intimidation tool?" Chloe demanded. "I told you I'm not helping you destroy Queen!"  
  
"Oh come now," Lionel tut-tutted playfully. "I have given you an assignment, with specific expectations. Think of me as ... hmm ... a newspaper editor with very abrupt deadlines. If you miss the deadline, you get dropped from publication. Except in my case, no paper from Buenos Aires to Yellowknife will hire you."  
  
Chloe tried to march past him, but he seemed to hover to block her path.  
  
"How was your visit to the journalism school's archives room?" he inquired innocently.  
  
How did you --, she gasped to herself. Alfred's supposedly outdated precautions now seemed eerily practical. They were in a shadowy war: one of whispers and shifting coalitions. Alfred knew the rules of the game all too well.  
  
"It was for the basketball game," Chloe blurted, with the faint hope that Lionel would believe her story.  
  
He didn't. "A basketball game," Lionel cackled. "Your terminal spat out 30 results. With the words 'wayne queen dinah lance'."  
  
Chloe's jaw dropped. Lionel has moles, even within the objective halls of Metropolis U.'s journalism school.  
  
"What you'll find is nothing that isn't already common knowledge," Chloe argued.  
  
"I wonder," Lionel tapped his finger against his cheek. "I wonder how young Master Bruce would react if he were to learn that you were looking into his college life. I dare say, Gotham's favourite son would not be amused. 'How could one of Clark's friends betray me like this', he'd claim. Hmm. A wedge between Wayne and Kent. I like it. Isolate poor Brucie from one of his closest friends. And, it would also serve as a warning to that meddlesome Clark – not to interfere in my affairs again."  
  
"Why should Bruce believe you?" she demanded, glancing over Lionel's shoulder. She hoped that Lana might see them.  
  
"Why should he believe you?" Lionel countered. "Face it, Chloe. I can save you, or damn you. I've taken many risks to encourage your reporting ambitions. I need a demonstration of good faith. Now. I don't want dull facts."  
  
Chloe remained silent. By threatening to reveal her snooping to Bruce, he implied that he knew nothing about Alfred's visit. It was an advantage. My only advantage, she lamented.  
  
"Then what is it you want?" Chloe replied, making it seem like she was fatigued.  
  
"I want perspective," Lionel remarked. "An opening. You see, in the Napoleonic Wars, it was a rule of war that a well-formed and disciplined infantry square could always stop a cavalry charge. Picture it, if you will: a bristling hedge of bayonets, with infantry at the ready. No horse in its right mind would impale itself against that! God Himself could not break that square, Miss Sullivan."  
  
"Why are you boring me with your 'Horatio Hornblower' footnotes?" Chloe rolled her eyes at the pompous display.  
  
"It's resolve, my dear," Lionel noted. "Resolve of the men. If they held, nothing could break their deadly hedge. But all it took was weakness. A few soldiers who'd break ranks. A few shot out of line. Then, those horses – glistening with bloodlust – would hammer down upon that broken square."  
  
Lionel motioned his arm in a slicing motion. "The cavalry would chop, behead, impale and otherwise grind that pitiful mass of weakened humanity to bits! I can't allow Oliver, Bruce and likely Lex to align themselves like that square. Queen is vulnerable now. I want to exploit that breach. Tell me what you've concluded about his rift with Wayne."  
  
"No!" Chloe declared.  
  
Lionel clicked his watch. The neon reflection displayed a running timer. "You have thirty seconds. Tell me what you think is the critical issue in this conflict of silver-spooned brats. Tell me, or Bruce will learn of your archive treachery. You will cause an air of suspicion between Bruce and Clark, a mood that I can exploit to achieve my ends anyway. Without you. Tell me what you think, and you can perhaps protect Clark's maturing friendship with Wayne. Deny me ... and you alone can wear that albatross for destroying their bond."  
  
Chloe hesitated. He cornered her again! She knew about Dinah. She knew that Ms. Lance was – if not the main reason – an aggravating factor in the Queen- Wayne tension. She knew that Bruce had misgivings about Oliver's relationship with Dinah.  
  
"Ten seconds," Lionel observed. "I'd like to be home for Koppel's report, if you don't mind."  
  
"Okay," Chloe stated. She struggled to find some detail in her discoveries that might not be so revealing.  
  
"Four seconds," Lionel continued, "three ... two ..."  
  
"Dinah Lance," Chloe stated.  
  
"Oh please," Lionel groaned. "The feud is little more than a tug of war between two frat boys hung up over some blonde Gotham tart? If that's all you have, I can do better on my own. But that isn't all – is it?"  
  
Chloe wrinkled the corner of her mouth, reluctant to give up what she had worked to uncover. "It was a matter of honour." She hoped that was still vague enough not to cause immediate harm.  
  
"Ah yes," Lionel clapped his hands in satisfaction. "The testosterone-driven point of honour. Queen had none; Wayne had too much. It was inevitable: their shared hunger for some perky co-ed would bring that conflicting character trait into play. Thank you, Miss Sullivan. You have performed your duty well. Oh ... if I even sense that you've gone to warn Oliver Queen, I will make it so that you lose your ability to think for yourself, let alone type. A lifetime strait-jacketed in a padded psychiatric ward would be a terrible place to end your budding career."  
  
In moments, Lionel disappeared into his sedan without lights. Chloe could only hope that Lionel didn't have the ability to exploit what he had learned.  
  
Lana turned on the porch light and opened the house door. "I was getting worried when Pete said he had dropped you off and you hadn't arrived yet."  
  
"Sorry," Chloe sighed. "I was just admiring the big Kansas sky. I read that you can see Venus tonight."  
  
Lana, apparently moments from going to bed, smiled and closed the door behind them. Chloe shuddered. She knew that her bargain with Lionel would give her no rest. After checking her email – apparently Clark was going to some museum soiree tomorrow for Queen – she turned off her lamp.  
  
But she couldn't sleep. She nodded off. Something prodded her awake. It was Oliver Queen, dressed in Metropolis U.'s athletic colours. An arrow had impaled his chest.  
  
"Why?" he demanded. "You sold me out. Bruce ignored me, but you damned me, Chloe! Enjoy your bright career. It was paid for with my family's honour! I will see you in Hell, Sullivan. Damn you." He gasped his last breath, and collapsed atop her bed.  
  
Chloe woke up from the nightmare. She inhaled. Her chest felt constrained. She wanted to believe she was handling this crisis, but she couldn't escape that feeling of guilt.  
  
Have I betrayed Queen to doom, condemned Wayne to ruin and served Lionel his Austerlitz victory, she feared. 


	5. CH 5

[The Talon, Smallville]  
  
In the morning, Clark received an urgent call from Lana: "I think you'd want to come over here right away."  
  
Clark hopped into his truck and drove off. He had too many things on his mind. He knew he had to balance on a delicate line when he was around Lex and Oliver. Don't bring up Dinah Lance, he repeated to himself like a mantra. Chloe was actually the voice of caution, he smirked. I was the one who barged ahead before I knew what was involved.  
  
There was also the immediate matter of "the party." Metropolis' elite will be there. The mayor, the D.A,  
the police commissioner, the university president and chancellor and the usual collection of industry captains, powerbrokers and politicians. But one guest, by his mere appearance, could cause an unexpected stir.

That was Bruce Wayne, a man on the verge of some grand destiny no one could fully understand. He was constantly preparing. Studying. Training. But for what, Clark had often wondered. For what purpose, to what end? Bruce had assumed control of the family's corporate empire once he turned 21. He had become CEO of Wayne Enterprises, and he was determined to prove that he was no lightweight: either on Wall Street or the halls of Congress. He was his father's son, and nothing on earth would keep him from exhalting his family's memory. Unlike Lex, who tried to purge his father's influence from his character. Lex and Bruce were friends, but their upbringing was so different. Perhaps they found common ground in the traumatic experiences of their youth.  
  
Clark parked along the street and walked into the Talon. In a corner booth, Bruce Wayne was having breakfast. The Daily Planet was unfurled. The headline only emphasized what was the biggest news in town:  
  
_'QUEEN TO RECLAIM BROKEN EMPIRE: Lex assembles corporate legions in Queen showdown with LuthorCorp_.'  
  
Bruce has rolled his blue dress shirt up to his elbows. He wolfed down the hash browns from his Big Breakfast special. He barely flinched as he took a sip of his coffee: cream, no sugar.  
  
"Uhh, Bruce," Clark seemed surprised. "I didn't know you were coming to town. I figured we'd meet at the party tonight."  
  
Lana arrived with a fresh pot of coffee. "He just arrived about 15 minutes ago. He wanted to get something to eat while we were still serving breakfast."  
  
"You could have come to the farm," Clark replied. He began to feel nervous. Maybe Lex told him about yesterday's incident. Perhaps Bruce was displeased that he had inquired about Ms. Lance. Bruce's silence didn't help him feel any better. He was usually sparse with words, though.  
  
"Lex has invited you to the party?" Bruce asked. Clark nodded hesitantly.  
  
Bruce studied a picture of Oliver at LexCorp.'s press conference earlier this morning. Lex had raised Oliver's hand in triumph. A powerful photo-op of unity.  
  
"Ollie and Lex were closer than friends," Bruce revealed. "Oliver had been like a brother to Lex. Even when they were breaking all the rules, Ollie looked out for Lex." He finally looked up at Clark. "Please, have a seat. You want something to eat? Pancakes, coffee?"  
  
"No, I'm fine," Clark slowly sat down in the booth.  
  
"Lana, if you needed some advice with the building restoration," Bruce offered, "I could put in a query to my architectural wing on behalf of Lex."  
  
"'That would be great," Lana beamed. She could sense that it was an awkward moment between Clark and Bruce. The chime of the microwave bought her an excuse to leave them.  
  
"About Oliver Queen --," Clark began. Bruce was avoiding the obvious topic on his mind: the arrival of Oliver Queen.  
  
"Yes, Oliver Queen," Bruce mumbled in that ambiguous tone which revealed nothing. "I first met him when I was 10. He was nine. I was always the smartest kid in class. Then Ollie beat me on a spelling test. I knew I had to push myself to maintain my standing. And he was so effortless with sports. Where strength and speed matter, I usually held my own. In sports that required finesse, he definitely bested me."  
  
Alfred had arrived, bearing a copy of the Gotham Times and Star City Record. Clearly, Bruce was keeping informed about the NAFTA's review of Lionel's takeover.

Lana arrived with a menu. "Something to drink, Mr. Pennyworth? Coffee, perhaps?"  
  
"Coffee?" he droned, unimpressed. "I may be in America, but by god, I will start my day as an Englishman! One tea -- two lumps -- my dear. Bruce,  
tip the young miss. And be generous, lad. You can certainly afford it."  
  
Lana laughed. Alfred always knew how to make her smile. "One proper tea. Absolutely, sir."  
  
"What's the topic today," Alfred inquired. "J-Lo's latest love interest? Or Paris Hilton? You know, she called last night. Again."  
  
Bruce chuckled. "You know what to say. I'm overseas. Actually, we were talking about Oliver Queen."  
  
Alfred frowned slightly. For Bruce's own good, he could not reveal what he knew about Chloe's investigations. Lionel Luthor would certainly exploit Queen's arrival as the time to execute his final drive to capture the rest of the Queen fortune. Alfred had to prevent that -- without drawing Bruce into Lionel's crosshairs.  
  
"I spent much of my teenage years overseas, or in different schools," Bruce continued. "Lex, too. The three of us kept in touch when we could, but we were growing up. Priorities changed. I was more focused than either of them. That sort of left me out in the cold during their juvenile phase. When I learned that both Oliver and Lex were at Metropolis U. when I was taking some electives at the Management School, we picked up where we left off. Lex told me you were curious about that time in our lives, as is your right."  
  
Clark sighed in relief. "I wasn't sure if Lex's good will on the matter included you, too."  
  
"I don't expect you to understand how we were raised," Bruce explained, "or the traditions we were expected to keep. And it would be arrogant of Lex or me to assume that you would. I always felt that I had to act responsibly. Even to the point that it might exclude me from some of Lex and Oliver's jet-set adventures. But ..."  
  
Clark held his breath. Alright, here it comes. Bruce was always the most private person he knew. That was not going to change.  
  
"Dinah Lance," Bruce stated. He pulled out his wallet and skimmed through some photos. The first photo -- the only photo that mattered, really -- was of Thomas and Martha. An old picture, taken when Bruce was probably still in kindergarten. He peeled out another photo. It was more recent. The background was the leaf-strewn grassy quadrangle of Metropolis U.'s campus. The faculty clocktower was there, with the business and journalism schools in the distance.  
  
In the middle of that photo was an attractive young woman. Shoulder-length blonde hair, with blue-grey eyes. She wore a cream-coloured cardigan, with a red-and-black tartan kilt. And knee-high leather boots, which suggested that she was probably more Gotham-urban-savvy than some of her classmates.  
  
"I knew her at Gotham State," Bruce added. "She was a freshman, I was a sophomore. We were just friends then. If she did express interest in me beyond that, I didn't notice. Or, didn't want to notice. But when I saw her again at Metropolis U., I thought I should take a chance ..."  
  
Alfred could sense Bruce's anguish. So many missed opportunities for happiness. Dinah had been another one, he felt. Bruce carefully placed the photo back into his wallet, thus closing the remote chance that he would further confide in Clark about her.  
  
"I tried to win her over, without success," Bruce lamented. "And Oliver --." Bruce became restless. "It was a game to him. It was always a game, do you understand, Clark?"  
  
"I'm trying," Clark seemed puzzled. What exactly did Oliver do?  
  
"The Queens gave him the world," Bruce argued, "with the power to do something meaningful. And what did he do with that gift? Lavish yacht parties in the Mediterranean with British pinup starlets. Keg parties in the Alps with his extreme sports enthusiast buddies. I tried to encourage him to do something -- anything -- useful with his inheritance. He didn't."  
  
"There are two sides to every story, Master Bruce," Alfred noted. He would press no further, but Bruce's stubbornness was frustrating. How could he expect Clark to remain a faithful friend, if he didn't reciprocate the same level of trust?  
  
Bruce quickly finished his breakfast and paid his bill. He put on his blazer. "I have a meeting with Metropolis U.'s dean of management studies," he explained. "I'll see you at the party." He read Clark's disappointed expression, then paused.  
  
"I want to confide in you," he added. "I really do. It's just with Dinah, the whole thing with Ollie ... I don't want to burden you with my problems."  
  
"That's what friends are for -- aren't they?" Clark replied.  
  
Point taken, Bruce thought. Alfred didn't seem to be in a hurry. He calmly finished his cup of tea, then added a $5 tip.  
  
"Exquisite tea, Miss Lang," Alfred nodded. "As usual, Master Bruce has left the cleaning up for others." He placed his bowler cap on and strolled outside to the limousine.  
  
"Slowpoke," Bruce remarked.  
  
Clark checked the clock. Homeroom was in 15 minutes. "Lana, I'll talk to you later. Lex will be by with the limo around 5 p.m. We can catch a ride with him to the museum party."  
  
Lana waved goodbye. If Clark's relationship with Lex was complicated, she thought, his friendship with Bruce promised to be just as rocky. But she agreed with Clark.  
  
Friends don't keep secrets from one another.  
  
[Borders bookstore, Metropolis city limits]  
  
Pete pulled the car into the parking lot. "You sure you don't wanna come to the basketball game? Oh wait -- are you going to that shindig for Oliver Queen at the museum?"  
  
"Oh god no," Chloe shook her head. "I have too much stuff to do. Student council minutes, my biology assignment ... I had to tell Lex that I can't go. Now I've got to check if my new book is in."  
  
"Yeah," Pete smirked. "It would have been cool to meet Ollie Queen. He's a legend of the extreme sports scene. But it's crunch time for the Crows, and duty calls."  
  
Chloe waved as Pete's car zoomed away. She knew that she was stretching the truth again. She had already picked up the minutes from the student council. She only had to write the conclusion for her biology project. Her schoolwork would be done by dinnertime. But she did have to check if the Special Orders department had received her mass communications book order. But that wasn't the real reason she was in suburban Metropolis.  
  
Her true reason had been browsing the 20th Century History aisle in the gigantic big-box store. Not surprisingly, the man was skimming through a book about the Cold War.  
  
Chloe glanced at the cover. "'Escape from East Berlin'? I take it you're reliving past adventures."  
  
Alfred shrugged. "You have the curiosity of cat, Miss Sullivan. It'll find you trouble if you don't keep it in check once in awhile." They found a secluded table in the corner, away from prying eyes. Alfred had given her specific instructions. _You must find a location where we can meet -- where the Smallville locals or Lionel's spies won't notice us_, he had told her. The largest bookstore, at the peak of the lunch hour, seemed to be ideal.  
  
"Update, Miss Sullivan?" Alfred inquired.  
  
Chloe pulled out a stack of photocopied news articles. "I had to download them from my home computer, since I can't be sure if Lionel's spying on me at the Torch."  
  
Alfred had hoped that Chloe didn't stumble upon the bombshell he had struggled to keep hidden. He was about to be disappointed.  
  
"I came across this article from the Gotham Post, dated about six months before Queen's disappearance." The headline read: '_Wayne, Queen to unite in partnership? New entity to challenge LuthorCorp_.'  
  
"What of it?" Alfred asked. He didn't want to serve the truth to her on a platter.  
  
"If Wayne and Queen had entered that partnership," Chloe explained, "they would have been the largest pulp and paper operation in the United States. They would have squeezed Lionel out of the picture. Why didn't they do it?"  
  
"Because Master Bruce lacked confidence in Oliver's business acumen," Alfred replied. "On the week of the negotiations, Ollie decided to conduct the meeting from his luxury suite in Las Vegas. He didn't make the conference: he was drunk and has passed out on the casino floor after a night of gambling and carousing. The deal fell through. Lionel was not amused at this possible alliance and immediately launched a hostile takeover of Queen Enterprises' west coast division. By the time Queen came to his senses, it was too late. The die was cast."  
  
Chloe still seemed confused. "But even without those assets, Wayne and Queen could have made a fight of it. I don't claim to understand the minutiae of corporate politics, but both of them could have handily bloodied LuthorCorp.'s nose. Why didn't they?" Alfred shifted uncomfortably in his seat, but Chloe would not relent. "I need to know," she stated.  
  
"Bruce hadn't assumed the CEO's position yet," Alfred continued. "He was an executive-in-training. Lucius Fox was, de facto, the man running Wayne Enterprises. He would have been the one to kill the deal, likely with Bruce's approval. I have no doubt they had good reason to, and Queen's behaviour only vindicated that decision."  
  
Chloe pulled out another file on Wayne Enterprises. Alfred became increasingly agitated. "I've tried every access-to-information trick that I had, but whenever I came across the proposed Wayne-Queen partnership, the records were 'classified' or 'confidential'"  
  
"Mr. Fox sealed the records," Alfred revealed. "That's as far as I know. Lucius Fox is Bruce's most trusted adviser, a friend of the late Thomas Wayne. If he sealed those records, he had a good reason for it."  
  
Chloe sighed. "So we're at an impasse. If we dig further, Mr. Fox will get wind of it and before you know it I'll have the weight of Wayne Enterprises bearing down on Smallville High. Not exactly the best way to start a reporting career."  
  
"Unless ..." Alfred began, then stopped himself.  
  
"If you could, somehow, gain access to those records - without anyone knowing - we might be able to get to the bottom of this whole mess," Chloe suggested.  
  
"I've come in from the cold, Miss Sullivan," Alfred declared. "I am just Wayne Manor's humble servant. My spying days are over."  
  
Chloe frowned. Without the sealed records, they had no way of knowing why Bruce Wayne and/or Lucius Fox thwarted a deal that could have crippled LuthorCorp.'s west coast operations. She was reluctant to urge Alfred to relive his past life as a spook. But the stakes were already too high. They had to do something.  
  
"Sometimes," Chloe argued, "we have to do less palatable things for the greater good. Politicians may claim victory for winning the Cold War, but it was you and your friends who risked their lives against the Soviets. If we do nothing, we know what happens next."  
  
"Lionel Luthor will destroy Oliver Queen," Alfred winced, "leaving the West Coast open for his clear-cutting and toxic dumping. Then, he will move against Wayne Enterprises. No, not now. Not when he's so close ..."  
  
"So close to what?" Chloe wondered. "I'm not following."  
  
Alfred shrugged. "Never mind." Some secrets should remain in the shadows, he thought. In the caves.  
  
"I have friends in The Company," Alfred whispered. Chloe's eyes widened. Her butler friend wasn't talking about Wayne Enterprises.  
  
He was referring to the CIA.  
  
Alfred pulled out a tiny black cellphone. "It can't be traced." He dialed a few numbers, then cleared his throat. "Westerling? It's Falconer. Remember that favour I did for you and Uncle Sam in Hong Kong? I'm collecting my debt. Today. I need information, in 24 hours." After a few moments, he hung up.  
  
"You've asked a great favour from me," Alfred sighed. "I still regret some of the things I've done for queen and country. It's a Pandora's box that is hard to close, once opened. I must ask a favour in return ... as a sign of good faith."  
  
Alfred was right, Chloe thought. This is a dangerous game. "Name your price," she replied cautiously.  
  
"You've expressed interest in Bruce's past," Alfred continued. "You are not to investigate Bruce Wayne any further, do you understand? Not his youth, his schooling, or his travels. I will help you with our common struggle against Lionel Luthor. But your questions about Bruce -- it all ends now."  
  
"But I still need to know more about Dinah Lance and how she ties into all this ..." Chloe protested.  
  
"Out of the question," Alfred stated. "Do not contact me until I contact you. You've asked me to conduct myself as a spy, and so I shall. This isn't Le Carre's _Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy _novel, Miss Sullivan. The consequences are all too real."  
  
Alfred spent the next five minutes explaining how he would leave the store, how he would ensure that they weren't being watched, and how she was not to leave the store until the end of the lunch hour. That way, she could blend into the departing lunchtime crowd and not raise any suspicions.  
  
Chloe checked her watch. It was quarter to one. She drummed her fingers impatiently on the table. Chloe Sullivan, you had to push the envelope, didn't you, she grumbled to herself. The Pandora's box was now open.  
  
What would be unleashed was anyone's guess.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: In a universe where Bruce Wayne, Oliver Queen and Clark Kent cross paths in Smallville, it would be safe to say that this tale is not trying to mesh with show canon. Though I do incorporate themes from the show (Chloe's deal with Lionel, Clark's relationship with Lex). That Queen headline in the Pilot sparked the story idea, but the similarity ends there in this tale. 


	6. CH 6

Metropolis Museum, Metropolis

Clark checked his tuxedo bowtie in the gilded mirrors of an ante room. Outside in Luthor Hall, a classical string quartet played an lively melody.

The bowtie was still crooked, he frowned.

Lex noticed Clark's frustration and quickly adjusted the bowtie. Both Lex and Clark had matching black-tie tuxedos, complete with coat-tails.

"I was hoping they'd play Beethoven," Lex observed, as he gave Clark's tuxedo one last once-over. "Did you know Beethoven had composed music for Napoleon Bonaparte, but ripped it up the moment he learned that the little Corsican had the audacity to crown himself Emperor?"

Clark shrugged. "I guess he felt Napoleon had gone too far." He set aside the thought for now and peeked outside. The elite of Metropolis society were already mingling. A wooden podium stood in the centre of the hall.

"I'm sorry Pete and Chloe couldn't join us," Lex offered. He sensed that Clark might feel out of place among the academics, business tycoons and senators that formed the Luthor social circle.

"Pete's got that crucial basketball game at Metropolis U. to cover for the Torch," Clark replied. "Chloe ... well, she said she was busy. Student council articles, biology and stuff."

Lex smirked. "Poor girl," he remarked. "If she keeps going full-throttle like that for the rest of the school year, she'll burn herself out before she even writes her SATs. Maybe you should ask her out."

Clark blanched. "We're just friends." Bruce arrived in the ante room, with Lana Lang on his arm. All eyes turned to Lana, in her strappy, mauve evening gown.

"Isn't she too young for you, Bruce?" Lex joked. Clark felt jealous: Bruce and Lana did look great together.

Bruce shoved Lex playfully. "Lana took a wrong turn. This museum's layout is confusing. If I didn't offer to escort her to Luthor Hall, we may have lost her among the Prehistoric Kansas wing!"

Lex took a seat near the ante room exit and studied his speaking notes. He checked his watch. Six o'clock exactly. In fifteen minutes, he would re-introduce Oliver Queen into Metropolis society and make an informal bid for help in his campaign to reclaim the Queen fortune from Lionel Luthor.

Bruce looked around the room. "Is ... Oliver here?" Lex and Clark appeared to be nervous at the mere mention of his name.

"I know what you guys are thinking," Bruce said, "and don't worry. I've thought about what you've told me. The issues I may have with Oliver are mine, but I don't expect either of you clean up the fallout. I am glad he's alive again. It's just that ... things are complicated."

Lex wanted to believe that Bruce had set aside his conflicting feelings about Oliver, but he still feel wary about their eventual meeting tonight. "Good," Lex finally replied, then paused -- not knowing what else to add. "As long as we've cleared the air on this." The string quartet stopped playing and a hush fell over the crowd. Clark peeked outside again.

He spotted the close-cropped blond hair, emerald eyes and slightly-stubbled beard of Oliver Queen. A bejewelled, middle-aged woman gasped as Oliver walked towards the ante room. Two congressmen muttered something incomprehensible when he passed them. The crowd had realized the truth: Oliver Queen had indeed returned from the grave.

Oliver opened both panelled doors of the ante room. He was also dressed in a tuxedo, though without coat-tails. He immediately spotted Lana.

"You look stunning," he declared, as he gallantly kissed her hand.

"Oh, this old thing," Lana beamed. "I just grabbed the first thing in the closet."

Oliver shook Clark and Lex's hands. "Gentlemen, we meet again." Clark suddenly felt uncomfortable. Bruce Wayne was only a few feet away. No one knew what to expect.

Oliver slowly walked towards Bruce Wayne, who was as tall as Clark -- but with broader shoulders. Oliver had to look up slightly to meet Bruce's gaze. He extended his hand.

"Bruce Wayne," Oliver stated. "I'm glad you could be here." Bruce didn't immediately accept Oliver's hand. Lex tugged his shirt collar. Just shake his hand, Lex seemed to say with his eyes. Please.

Alfred's arrival interrupted the awkward moment. "Oliver Queen," he announced. "Lazarus awakened! It's so good to see you." Alfred bore no ill will towards Oliver and was pleased to see him.

Oliver gave Alfred a friendly hug. "My man, Al. You've got me out of a few rough patches, as I recall. If it wasn't for you, I might have been stuck in that Turkish jail for a week!"

"Mr. Queen seems in good health, wouldn't you say, Master Bruce?" Alfred offered, attempting to engage him in conversation with his estranged friend.

Bruce extended his hand in greeting. There seemed to be a collective sigh of relief in the room. Oliver hoped that the gesture meant that all was forgiven.

He was mistaken.

"I'm here out of respect for the Queen family," Bruce explained clinically. "Oliver and I have unresolved issues."

"Master Bruce ..." Alfred began, but Bruce's expression seemed to indicate that he was not interested in any further debate.

"I'm glad you're here, just the same," Oliver replied. He wasn't about to let Bruce's infamous stubbornness ruin Lex's plans.

Lex checked his watch again. It's 6:10, thank goodness, he sighed in relief. "Ollie? We'd better get out there. The curator is going to make his opening remarks in five minutes."

Oliver nodded politely to Clark and the rest of them, then exited the room with Lex.

"Bruce Wayne," Alfred stated impatiently. "That was uncalled for. Oliver Queen was prepared to put aside the bad blood between you. You could have at least extended the courtesy!"

"I'm not going to get into this now, Alfred," Bruce protested. The argument he had with Oliver one year ago still left him with bitter feelings. Oliver tended to speak without thinking, but he had crossed the line. No one speaks about my parents the way Oliver did that night, Bruce grimaced.

No one.

"Bruce, he's really trying," Clark added. "Just give him a chance."

Bruce turned on Clark. Sometimes, he thought, Clark doesn't know when to stop pressing an issue. "What would you have me do, Clark Kent?" Bruce demanded. "Should I just grin and bear it, knowing that Oliver Queen showed no respect for my parents! The things he said ..."

"He was a different man, then," Lana added. "He's really sorry. I'm sure once he has the chance to explain, both of you can work it out."

"If it wasn't for me, he wouldn't even have the mining operation to come back to," Bruce remarked. He checked himself. Clark seemed confused by the remark, but he didn't pursue the argument further. Lana's intervention appeared to diffuse the situation, since Bruce knew that Lana shouldn't feel uncomfortable because of him.

Bruce regained his composure after taking a deep breath. "I apologize, Clark. Lana. The murder of my parents has always been on my mind. It's not your concern, and I regret that you had to be involved in this spat with Oliver." He left the ante room and mingled with the crowd outside.

"Stubborn, stubborn man," Alfred winced. "His parents are a sensitive issue, as you may know. I guess all those feelings re-surfaced once he saw Oliver again."

Clark was confused. What did Bruce mean when he said that Oliver wouldn't even have that mining operation if it wasn't for his help?

"Sometimes, I just don't get Bruce," Clark complained to Lana. "I mean -- he tells me that he values me as a close friend. Then, he shuts me out whenever the taboo subject of his parents is brought up."

"Actually," Lana replied. "I think I can sort of relate to what he's going through. For the longest time, I didn't want to discuss my parents' death with anyone. I felt that no one could truly understand how I felt. How much I missed them. But I realized later that you can't live like that. In a shell. When you shut out people for so long, it can become second nature. I will miss my mom and dad for the rest of my life, but I know that they wouldn't want me to live life in isolation. You just can't work through the pain alone. Believe me, I've tried. And it doesn't work. You only hurt yourself more in the end."

Clark sighed. "They why does Bruce insist on suffering alone?" At least Lana knew that the meteor shower had killed her parents. Bruce had to watch as a thug shot both of his parents. The killer was never found. Justice had denied the Waynes, and Bruce had to live with that knowledge.

The museum curator was already making his opening remarks. Clark and Lana hurried outside and joined the audience. Before Lex and Oliver could reach the podium, Lionel Luthor appeared from another room. Dressed in a silver bowtie and tailored black tuxedo, he stepped up to the microphone.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Lionel began. He relished the stunned expression on Lex's face. Lex thought that he might be able to tap into the political capital of the Luthor name -- and use those contacts to form a strategic alliance with Queen. With hundreds of eyes upon the stage, Lionel was confident that Lex could do nothing to upstage him now.

"What the hell is Lionel doing here?" Bruce muttered quietly to Alfred.

"It appears, Master Bruce, that Lionel is here to stir things up," Alfred grumbled. "That is his specialty."

Lex's face has flushed red with embarrassment. Or was is rage? Clark could only give his friend a supportive nod. Lionel was definitely up to something.

"Thank you all, museum directors, curator, members of Congress and city hall, and my brethren from the financial world," Lionel announced. "We are here today to welcome that icon of the West Coast natural resource industry ... Mr. Oliver Queen. How about a round of applause for Star City's own Lazarus!" A roar of applause and hurrahs echoed through Luthor Hall. Lionel held up his hand to calm the crowd. "Let us hope that Mr. Queen has the sense not to run off on another seafaring adventure. My son, Lex, will be happy to outline the itinerary for this evening. Lex?" Lionel graciously stepped away from the podium, but he was doing no favour for Lex. He had just stolen the spotlight from his son, and he enjoyed the moment.

"Sun-Tzu once said that if you wait by the river long enough, your enemies will eventually float by," Lionel sneered at Lex. "I'm on the governing board of the museum. Do you take me for a fool not to know what goes on in my own hall?"

Lex turned towards his father, just as confident that Lionel's stunt was only a minor obstacle. The goal was still the same: the restoration of the Queen fortune to its rightful owner. "I'd suggest you wait by the river a bit longer," Lex snapped back. "because you'll soon find yourself against a deluge of enemies." He calmly approached the podium.

"Thank you," Lex nodded politely to Lionel. A dozen servers arrived with delectable finger foods and pastries. "Ladies and gentlemen, please enjoy yourselves. I'm confident that we all would like nothing more than to see Oliver Queen return to the corporate world stronger than ever -- even with a mild case of tropical sunburn." The audience laughed at the joke. "The formalities will begin in half an hour." Lex understood that the real work would occur out on the floor, in the ante rooms and next-day conference calls. He planned to gather as many willing investors as possible to thwart Lionel's plan to gobble up what was left of Queen Enterprises.

"A word, Dad, if you please," Lex remarked, still aware that people were watching him. "In the ante room." He nodded to Oliver and Bruce, prompting them to follow.

"Oooh, this sounds serious indeed!" Lionel grinned mischievously.

"Clark, I'd like you to come with us," Bruce stated. "You're a friend. There should be no secrets between you, me, Lex -- or Oliver."

Clark hesitated, but sensed that Oliver was also in agreement. Lana realized that she was not part of that inner circle and thought of retreating to the dessert table. Alfred would not hear of it. He bowed in front of her. "Miss Lang, might I invite you for a spin on the dance floor? I hear a waltz." Several couples had already stepped out on the floor, while the musicians began to play.

"Uhh, okay!" Lana grinned. "I've never waltzed before, but now's as good a time as any."

Behind the ante room door -- where some of America's most powerful industrialists had fled -- the mood was anything but festive.

"Whatever you're scheming, Lionel," Bruce barked, "it's doomed to fail. I'll see to it!"

"Ah, Bruce," Lionel shrugged, as he studied his hands. "Still the crusading knight. A shame, really, that you lack your father's common sense! Thomas Wayne was an idealist, but he knew a lost cause when he saw one."

"I'll not have you speak poorly of my father, not while I'm still breathing," Bruce growled.

Lionel ignored him and turned to Lex. "Did I not teach you to surround yourself with like-minded people? Now I find you frolicking with riff-raff such as Queen and Wayne. Surely you realize they are not up to Luthor standards. They wouldn't know an honest day's work if it stepped on their pedicured toes!"

"Oliver and Bruce are easily worth a thousand of your sniveling LuthorCorp. drones," Lex declared. "Our course is set. Nothing you do can change that now."

Lionel sniffed disdainfully at the show of bravado. He smirked at Oliver. "Oliver Queen. Back from the dead. You'll need more than a miracle if you're casting your lot with Lex and Bruce. All sizzle, no steak, those two. Queen Enterprises is mine, and shortly your diamond operations will be mine too. NAFTA or no NAFTA treaty."

Oliver grabbed Lionel by the lapels and shoved him against a wood-panelled wall. "I've had it with your snide remarks. You know what one year on a deserted island gave me? It gave me focus. A purpose! You have what belongs to me. I'll take it back from you somehow."

Clark and Lex pulled Oliver away from Lionel, who didn't appear to be concerned at all. He slipped his hand in his jacket and pulled out an envelope. "Are you really certain you know the difference between friend and foe, Oliver Queen? This might change your mind."

Oliver snatched the envelope from his hand and opened it. It was a memo -- stamped CONFIDENTIAL -- from Wayne Enterprises, dated a few months before his round-the-world yachting race. He knew that Bruce wasn't enthusiastic about the partnership he had proposed. It would have given him the leverage to crush LuthorCorp.'s presence on the West Coast. He figured that Bruce probably harboured some bitterness over losing Dinah to him. The memo said something entirely different.

The smug Bruce Wayne had judged him as an inferior partner, not worthy of sharing a corporate banner with Wayne Enterprises.

He glared at Bruce, while mumbling through the document. "So you thought I was '_inadequate_'? '_A poor judge of character_'? The memo says Lucius Fox was in favour of our partnership, but you alone encouraged him to kill the deal! It's your signature here, effectively signing away my family legacy. Always passing judgment on others! You freaking boy scout."

Lex skimmed through the memo. "I take it my father had a mole in Gotham City. How else could he have obtained this? That's corporate espionage."

"If you can prove it," Lionel chuckled, "which, of course, you can't. So I ask you again, Oliver, are you sure you can trust these two?" He began to walk away, towards the exit.

"You wouldn't have understood then, Oliver," Bruce muttered.

"I'm sure Bruce had his reasons," Clark offered weakly. "You said it yourself, Oliver. You were living on the edge back then. A loose cannon."

Oliver paced away from them. "You don't get it, do you, Kent? Bruce never had faith in me then, even as I was trying to make something of myself. How can I expect him to back me up now, when I have a clear goal and need his help the most?"

Lex tugged uncomfortably at his collar. Lionel wanted to drive a wedge between Bruce and Oliver. There was already a seed of mistrust between them, and now his father's tactic inflamed that ember. If he didn't act in time, it threatened to consume them all.

"Drop your ill-conceived protest with the NAFTA review board, Oliver," Lionel proclaimed, "and I'll make you the executive vice-president in charge of my Asian operations. Think of it, Oliver! Imagine the adventures you could have, with the Far East as your playground. With my business sense and your passion, we could amass a fortune well beyond that pittance from your family. Wealth beyond belief. Oh, it's a limited-time offer. It's off the table once the NAFTA board convenes in Metropolis in two days. You have 48 hours. Take my offer, or doom yourself to ruin. Lex may wish to ally himself with Wayne, but you need not. Choose your friends well." Before Oliver could protest, Lionel had returned to the festivities outside.

"Like the Romans of old," Lex observed, "my father intents to pit allies against each other, then divvy up the spoils of war. He'll exploit any gap in our resolve. All of us need to set aside our differences. Now. We must close ranks if we're to prevail against him."

Clark glanced nervously at Bruce and Oliver, who had turned their backs to each other. Bruce distracted himself with his Blackberry device, while Oliver paced erratically in another corner. Two wounded egos that needed each other to survive.

If they were sensible enough to recognize it.

Clark felt like a puppet, jolted this way and that way on the whims of his stubborn, squabbling friends. Those threads of friendship were fraying before his eyes, possibly beyond repair.

"That's assuming Bruce and Oliver want to be allies at all," Clark sighed.


	7. CH 7

(The Torch office, Smallville)

Chloe arranged the layout of this week's edition on Quark Xpress. She would have liked to attend the museum gala in Oliver Queen's honour -- just to see what exactly what all the fuss was about. She gathered from Clark that Lex wanted to assemble a legion of investors, who would reclaim those corporate divisions Lionel had stolen from Queen during his tropical absence.

Only she knew how dangerous Lionel's schemes truly were. Lionel intended to break the Queen stranglehold on the West Coast, and then use those assets to challenge Wayne Enterprises in one, last industrial showdown. Lionel wanted to destroy Bruce Wayne -- and Oliver Queen was the only man who stood in his way. Now, he wanted to exploit a simmering rift between the two billionaires.

This "agreement" I have with Lionel is getting worse by the minute, Chloe muttered to herself.

There was a UPS delivery earlier this evening. She had found it at the Torch office door when she first arrived here. She was going to open it, but an excited call from Pete had distracted her. "We beat Fawcett City!" Pete had screamed over the phone. It was a squeaker: 54-52 in favour of the Crows. They had survived the round-robin tournament and were going to advance to the playoff round. She promised him that she would wait until he filed at least one story about the victory.

Chloe's curiosity about the UPS envelope soon overwhelmed her. She stripped off the seal and opened the envelope. A brand-new copy of John Le Carre's _The Spy Who Came In From The Cold_ novel fell out.

I don't remember ordering a spy novel, Chloe thought. A shiver rippled down her spine. She wasn't the one who ordered it. The novel appeared to have a loose page, which fell out when she flipped through the pages.

A blank page. She examined it carefully. There was a faint scent of lemon.

She quickly pulled out a match and carefully scorched the surface of the blank page. Words seemed to appear where there were none. It was an old trick: using lemon juice to write secret messages. It must have been from Alfred. She studied the message:

"_Lionel mole in Gotham._

_Meet Company contact at Metropolis Stock Exchange. 8:55 a.m. tomorrow. Look for black tie._

_Last communication until NAFTA hearing._

_Destroy message._

_F._"

The 'F' meant Falconer, which Chloe understood as one of Alfred's MI6 aliases. Chloe's pulse began to race. Lionel had a spy in Gotham City? Perhaps even in the halls of Wayne Enterprises. Lionel was quickly consolidating his position before the NAFTA hearing two days from now. Alfred had played his ace: his contact at the CIA, who would meet her tomorrow morning. They had selected a meeting time just before 9 a.m., when everyone would be scurrying into the building for work. Perhaps the contact has information that could still thwart Lionel's plans, she hoped.

She allowed the match flame to consume the paper, until it was nothing but ash and smoke. She pulled out an air freshener and quickly sprayed it around the garbage can.

The door burst open, causing Chloe to gasp in fright.

"Sorry, Chloe," Pete grinned. "I still can't believe we beat Fawcett City. Who'd have thought the Crows were in the running for the playoffs?"

"I'm just as surprised as you," Chloe added. "I've got this week's Torch layout almost done, but I've left space for about 300 words for your story about the Crows' victory-from-the-jaws-of-defeat. We can use one of your pictures for the front page."

"Sweet," Pete beamed. "Photo by Pete Ross. First stop Metropolis, next stop, New York, Washington ..."

"Don't get ahead of yourself, Mr. Ross," Chloe laughed at Pete's late-night enthusiasm. "We still need your 300 words."

"I'm on it," Pete dashed to his desk, pulled out his notepad and began to write. Then, he paused.

"What's up," Chloe remarked. Pete sniffed the air. Something didn't seem right to him and he wasn't about to let it go.

"Do you smell something burning?" Pete continued to snarl his nose at the faint scent of smoke.

"Oh, I was re-organizing those old back issues of the Torch, back when Duran Duran was at the top of the charts," Chloe explained quickly. "They're really musty, so I moved them into a newer box." She was telling the truth. Well -- technically. She had re-arranged the old archived issues, but that wasn't the cause of the smell.

Pete noticed the UPS envelope. "We got a delivery today?"

Chloe thought of coming up with another alibi, but she was uncomfortable lying again to Pete, who had done nothing to earn such treatment. "Umm, yes I did. I ordered a book, and it arrived today."

Pete picked up the John Le Carre novel. "Oh man, this was written, like, 40 years ago. I didn't think spy novels were up your alley." He nodded towards the Wall of Weird. "Then again, you've always liked a good mystery."

"Like the mystery of a high school editor who wondered how she was going to get the paper out to the publisher in time, if her sports reporter doesn't get his 300-word article out soon," Chloe smirked playfully.

"Yeah, I hear you, Comrade Sullivan," Pete teased, still amused that Chloe read spy novels of her father's generation. International intrigue. High stakes. Soviet-era double agents. Death stalking around every corner.

In other words, he smiled, nothing like Smallville.

* * *

(Luthor Hall, Metropolis Museum)

Lex shook the hand of the grey-haired senator. "I am glad you're entertaining our point of view, Senator. I trust that you understand that Oliver Queen means to keep jobs in the West Coast."

"That will certainly play well during the congressional elections," the senator grinned. He would support Lex's move to re-take Queen Enterprises' divisions from his father. Then, he would call upon Lex for funding at election time. Lex's political clout was rising, and he intended to hitch his fortunes to him.

In another corner, Oliver Queen was discussing his future plans with members of the Metropolis Board of Trade. Bruce Wayne was in the ante room, encouraging his friends at Metropolis U. to support Queen's efforts.

"I guess they've finally decided to set aside their differences," Clark observed.

Lex grinned at Clark's incorrect assessment. "Bruce is not one to give in so lightly. If there's one thing you should understand about Bruce Wayne, it's that Bruce has placed his parents atop a pedestal. They are above criticism in his eyes. Oliver dared to challenge that view. Bruce won't easily forget that slight, even if Ollie never meant to hurt him."

Clark noticed that Oliver, Alfred and Lana were sharing a laugh at the purple-velveted snack table. "Alfred and Oliver seem to get along," Clark observed.

"Alfred is the reason to Bruce's passion," Lex observed. "Though Bruce would argue he always has his emotions in check. Maybe he isn't quick to forgive Ollie because he reminds him of those traits he has suppressed since that night in Crime Alley long ago. Some men are raised to keep their feelings behind a veil of strength. Some -- like Oliver -- are more open to wearing their inner feelings on their sleeves. Whether either state is a sign of vulnerability, or maturity, is a matter for Metropolis U.'s psychologists to debate."

"Alfred," Lex announced over the strings of the quartet, "if you'd like something to eat, I could have the museum kitchen prepare something for you."

"I wouldn't want to be a bother," Alfred replied. He despised Lionel, but he still couldn't figure out Lex. He seemed to be polite. Even caring. But was that an act -- a performance for the public? Or was he really the polar opposite of his ruthless father?

"No, it's no trouble at all. It's all catered. I'll have them whip up something New England in flavour," Lex answered. He picked up the house phone and ordered several dinners.

Clark looked around. The guests were preparing to leave for the night. The cellist and violinists were shuffling away their song sheets. He looked for Bruce and Oliver. They were nowhere to be found.

He heard an argument, outside the panelled double doors of Luthor Hall. Alfred and Lana heard it, too, and they immediately raced to the doors.

Clark heard Lionel's raised voice. He was barking about someone being a disgrace to the family name. When he opened the doors, Lionel looked over at Bruce.

"Thank god your father isn't alive to see what you've become," Lionel muttered cruelly, "You're half the man Thomas Wayne was. Go find yourself a B-movie actress to amuse yourself with. That is what you're good at."

Bruce calmly placed his glass of wine atop a side table. He coughed, then lunged at Lionel. He tugged him by his lapels, raising him a foot above the ground.

"I warned you," Bruce growled, "not to speak of my father like that in my presence, you son-of-a--."

Clark struggled to restrain Bruce, whose immense strength tested Clark's own abilities. Lex called off the pair of Lionel's burly security guards, while Oliver pulled Lionel away from Bruce.

A few guests had turned around to see what was going on. Lex marched towards them. "The museum is now closed. Please leave."

"What the hell has gotten into you, Bruce!" Oliver snapped.

Bruce turned angrily towards Oliver, struggling to break free of Clark's grasp. "As usual, you don't understand. I warned him, didn't I?" Clark's grip was like an industrial vice. He wasn't going to let go.

"Just let it go, Bruce," Oliver pleaded. "This isn't the time or place --"

Bruce struggled again, but Clark wasn't about to let his friend loose on Lionel, which was what he'd probably want. A civil lawsuit would make Lionel look like a victim, and tarnish Bruce's reputation in the press.

"And what would be the right time or place, Oliver?" Bruce demanded. "Lionel has made it a war between us."

Oliver adjusted his tuxedo. "No, Bruce, you've made it war between us. I've had one year on that godforsaken island to reflect on my mistakes. I'm prepared to make amends for them, but you don't seem willing to let me! How can my put faith in a man who lacks confidence in my ability to make my own decisions?"

Lionel, crouched against the wall, smiled. "You see, Mr. Queen? Bruce lacks his father's sensibilities. You have a chance to join the ranks of the new century's leaders. Cast aside your familial loyalties to these old robber barons of yesteryear. Can't you see, Oliver – Bruce and Lex are beyond change. They're so smug in their self-importance that they'll merely use your resources to better their decrepit companies. They are using you! You've returned with renewed purpose. I can see that now. Put that purpose to use. The scales have fallen. You've opened your eyes, like Saul on the road to Damascus. Visionaries are often mocked in their own time. You and I are of a different breed. We carve the paths that others -- like Lex and Bruce -- are content to follow. I can give you the tools to do what you've always wanted: to make the world wake up and change the way they consume the earth's resources. That's not a fantasy. That's a realized dream: one that I offer now as a choice to you."

Lionel then extended his hand, indicating that he wanted Oliver to help him up. Oliver held out his hand and pulled him up.

"You see what he's trying to do?" Alfred glared at Lionel. "Lionel wants to break your ties with Bruce and Lex ... to serve his own ends!"

"Oh, please," Lionel rolled his eyes impatiently. "And my son and that Gotham playboy aren't serving their own ends with this offer of a triumvirate? Let me guess, Lex. You're the self-styled Augustus Caesar of the group. And Bruce is Mark Antony, the impassioned conqueror always in search of a Cleopatra to bed. I'd pity you both, if the notion of this alliance didn't seem comically absurd."

"Don't listen to him, Oliver," Lex insisted. "My father only satiates his own needs. Above all others -- including blood family."

"Spare me you're childhood resentment, Lex," Lionel scoffed. "No one here is interested in our petty family feud. You've constantly ignored my advice, in favour of the views of Clark Kent, the high school farmhand? It appears your post-secondary education was all for nothing."

When Lionel opened the museum door, his limousine was already there. The uniformed driver opened the rear door. "Will you be going to dinner at the usual spot, Mr. Luthor?"

Inside the museum were two of Lionel's secretaries. One was a petite brunette, the other a leggy blonde. With short skirts and strappy halter-tops, they were clearly not taking minutes for corporate meetings tonight.

"Hi, Mr. Queen," the two secretaries cooed in unison.

"Dinner for three, yes," Lionel noted, then paused. "No, make that four." He sat between the two secretaries, and left the rear seat free. "Oliver, join me for dinner, and I'll show you a glimpse of a future you never dared to seize. Until tonight."

"Oliver," Clark began, "Don't go with him. Lex is right."

"Clark, I don't want this rift with Bruce to stand in the way of our friendship," Oliver insisted, "and I don't begrudge your loyalty to Bruce. But -- I have to look after my own interests. With that memo from Wayne Enterprises, and the constant skirmishing between Lex and his father, I have to ask myself: whose interests are they serving? I need to weigh my options. It's my future at stake here. Not theirs."

"No, Oliver," Lex pleaded. Oliver began to walk towards the open limousine door.

Clark had let go of Bruce, who still glowered at Lionel. "If you step into that limo, you really are a fool, Oliver."

"If being a friend of yours means living up to your impossible standards," Oliver stated, "then perhaps we can't be friends any more. I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings, Bruce, but I'm not going to let you hold my guilt over me forever."

Before he stepped into the limo, Lex gripped his arm. "You're making a huge mistake, Ollie."

"You've always been a friend, Lex," Oliver replied, as he nestled into the back seat. "But I owe myself a chance at a new life. It's hope, Lex, and that trumps even my loyalty to you." He closed the door and the limo disappeared into the Metropolis night.

"A momentary setback," Lex offered unconvincingly. "He'll see things our way, Bruce."

"Alfred, take me back to the hotel," Bruce mumbled. In his hand, he clutched the tarnished silver locket with the black-and-white picture of his newlywed parents. He studied the tiny picture. Lana understood that Bruce wanted to preserve whatever fleeting memories he had of his parents -- before a gunman's bullets yanked them away from him. She gave his hand a comforting squeeze.

"You understand, don't you," Bruce noted. "With each passing year, it becomes harder to remember the happier times. That's all I have left. Those memories."

"I'm sorry, Bruce," Clark replied. "I know you would have preferred to stay friends with Oliver."

"If he sides with Lionel," Bruce sniffed angrily, "any hope of reconciliation is over. If he chooses to ride shotgun with Lionel, I'll have no choice but to view him as a foe." Alfred sighed in frustration. Bruce has few true friends, he thought, and he's casting aside yet another one. In moments, Alfred and Bruce also departed into an unknown future.

The musicians were at the front of the museum, hailing a cab. They waved at Lex, Clark and Lana -- unaware at what had just happened.

"This was not the night I had planned," Lex remarked. "and we played right into my father's trap. Now he has Ollie. Bruce is probably going to return to Gotham City. Without him, I don't have enough capital to recapture those Queen subsidiaries from LuthorCorp. Tell me, Clark, if you were Alexander the Great and you had learned of a plot against you, what would you do?"

"Well, I'm not an expert in ancient history," Clark insisted, "but I do know that if you're down by a few points in basketball, it calls for a full-court press, with the seconds ticking away. If there's an opening, go for the three-point shot."

Lex chuckled at Clark's analysis. In one sense, he was right: time was running out for them. "Alexander the Great was lucky. His choices were clearer. If you saw an elephant charging towards you, you got out of the way. Unfortunately, mistrust among friends often doesn't have a face. It's not Dinah Lance, or that stupid memo, or even the Queen and Wayne personalities that are at fault. How can you defend against a foe without a face?"


	8. CH 8

(Metropolis Stock Exchange, Metropolis)

Chloe finished her last sip of coffee and crossed the street. At the building, the bold, brass plate with the letters MSE – Metropolis Stock Exchange – reflected the morning sunshine. She had to hold her hand over her eyes to shield them from the glare. Dozens of well-dressed men and women hurried into the large revolving doors and flashed their identity badges to the elderly security guard in the main foyer. Business would begin at 9 a.m., as the stockbrokers awaited the opening bell of trading at 9:30 a.m. The NYSE would set the ball rolling for the rest of the country.

The Metropolis Stock Exchange, second only to the Chicago Stock Exchange in the midwest, was built on the exchange of goods which traveled the railroads of the last century. But the past twenty years saw the growth of high technology in this region, due to LuthorCorp.'s substantial investment in scientific research and development.

There were rumours about LuthorCorp., on the cusp of a WorldCom/Enron corporate meltdown. Somewhere in the MSE, Chloe thought, a Daily Planet reporter was digging into that angle.

More people hurried through the wide plaza outside the 1920s-era building. There were so many people in suits, that she had difficulty spotting one with a plain black-tie.

"Do you have the time, miss?" one of the employees asked her.

"It's 8:55," Chloe checked her watch. She looked up, and saw the plain black tie of her contact. He was tall – not quite as tall as Clark – and he was roughly 10 years younger than Alfred, with a few strands of graying hair.

"Walk with me to the newsstand near the entrance," the contact mumbled. He carefully glanced around to ensure that no one was paying attention to them.

"And you are?" Chloe inquired. The man ignored her and purchased the morning edition of the Daily Planet. He opened it, and the pages shielded both of them from view.

"The name of your contact, Miss Sullivan," the man stated. "Now, please." Chloe had caught a glimpse of the gun holster just beneath his jacket. It would be safer to just give him an answer than demand an explanation, she concluded.

"Falconer," Chloe answered quietly. The man nodded, content with the answer. There were dozens of people at the MSE entrance now. No one would have noticed them beside the newsstand.

He handed her the business section of the Daily Planet. There was a plain manila folder tucked inside its pages.

"Show this to Falconer," the contact instructed.

"But I'm not supposed meet him until the NAFTA hearing," Chloe mumbled. "And Lionel has a contact in Gotham."

"He 'had' a contact in Gotham," the man replied, without looking at Chloe. "That state of affairs won't continue. We're taking care of it. Falconer needs to see this. ASAP. Do you understand?"

"Right away?" Chloe blurted. "It's going to be hard. He's with Bruce Wayne in Metropolis."

The man put on his sunglasses. "Find a way, Miss Sullivan." He began to fold up his newspaper.

"You know my name, but I don't even know who you are!" Chloe whispered, still wary that they might be noticed.

"The only reason I'm giving you this information is your connection with Falconer," the man replied curtly. "That's all you need to know. Do your part – and I'll do mine." Before Chloe could ask another question, the man crossed the plaza and disappeared beneath the underground parking.

Chloe carefully glanced around the plaza and quickly crossed the street to the café. She slipped into a rear booth and opened up the business section. Great, she thought, another Wayne Enterprises files stamped CONFIDENTIAL. She skimmed through the document, and gasped. Falconer – er, Alfred – needed to see this, she thought. He must see this. Oliver Queen's fortune, and Wayne Enterprises' survival, depended on it.

That's it, she decided. I need to find Alfred today. It didn't matter whether or not he was with Bruce Wayne. She went to the payphone, pulled out the Yellow Pages and looked for H – Hotels.

"Four Seasons Hotel Metropolis," she noted. "The most exclusive hotel in town. That has to be it!" A receptionist answered the call.

"Yes," Chloe replied, "I'd like to speak with Alfred Pennyworth. He's with the Wayne Enterprises party."

"I'm sorry, miss," the receptionist stated, "but the Wayne party has departed for city hall for the mayor's conference. They won't be back until noon at the earliest. Would you like to leave a message?"

"Yes," Chloe scrambled to write down the information. '_Wayne – Mayor's office – Hotel at noon_' "Please tell Mr. Pennyworth that a Ms. Sullivan would like to speak with him about my school project." She hung up the receiver and walked out of the café. She froze in her tracks.

Chloe trembled. Did I just leave a message for Alfred? Bruce Wayne might ask for messages, then he might get that message too! She cursed under her breath. It was important that Bruce was left out of the loop on her little conspiracy with Alfred. All the deceptions, lies and half-truths had clouded her judgment.

I've slipped up, she feared. The mayor's conference was closed-door, which meant that Chloe couldn't pretend she was part of the press and attempt to crash the meeting. It was private. All she could do now was to wait at the Four Seasons Hotel for the Wayne party's return.

Chloe, she grumbled, why did you have to leave that message! That was careless. And dangerous.

She checked her watch. I'm going to be late for homeroom.

* * *

(Luthor estate, Smallville)

Lex was already awake. Several files cluttered the coffee table in the den. He had already made a dozen calls to potential investors and political allies. If Bruce opted to abandon this venture with Ollie, he would need more money. And more help. Bruce was at city hall and wouldn't be taking calls until lunch. He couldn't believe Ollie chose to have dinner with his father.

Maybe he was mad and was lashing out, Lex hoped. If Oliver actually accepted Lionel's offer of a partnership, Lex feared, then I won't have enough capital to buy those Queen shares from Lionel. LuthorCorp. would just absorb the remainder of Queen Enterprises: the mining operations and subsidiaries. Then, his father would have enough resources and corporate clout to --.

Lex coughed at the bitter coffee lodged in his throat. LuthorCorp. – merged with the rest of Queen's empire – could challenge Wayne Enterprises in any market sector: from Alaska to the Straits of Magellan. He would pick apart Wayne's corporate assets, one division at a time. For Bruce, it would be like trying to put out a thousand forest fires at once.

Lex buried his head in his hands. Why did Bruce have to be so stubborn? Why did Ollie have to be so determined to prove himself? No one was thinking clearly last night, and Lionel Luthor forced open that chasm. He played on each of our weaknesses: my resentment, Bruce's emotional baggage and Ollie's blind never-say-die attitude. He had us ... right where he wanted us.

Lex quickly dialled the Four Seasons Hotel in Metropolis. Bruce had already left. He tried to call Ollie's cell phone, but there was no tone. Amidst all this activity, he had ignored the doorbell – which had been ringing for the past five minutes.

"Not now!" Lex yelled. "I'm busy."

"Lex, it's me, Lana." Lex looked through the window. Lana was ready for school, and it appeared that the long night at the museum had caught up with her. She yawned, covering her mouth with her hands.

"I'm sorry, Lana," Lex opened the door. He looked as his feet. He was still in socks, having forgotten to put on his loafers.

Lana noticed the organized chaos in the den. "I didn't mean to disturb you, Lex. I just came by to drop off the Talon's payroll."

"I have two of America's most influential industrialists in Metropolis," Lex observed, "and the only business partner I can get in touch with today is the reliable Miss Lang. Have you heard from Bruce or Oliver today?"

Lana shook her head. "Nope. Your driver just dropped Clark and I home. I haven't seen either of them."

"Clark," Lex scrambled to get his cell phone, and dialled. "Clark? Listen, have you spoken with Bruce or Alfred this morning? I need to get in touch with Wayne right away."

Clark was already walking towards Smallville High. "I only talked to Alfred this morning," he replied on the phone. "They were going to the see the mayor and wouldn't be taking calls until lunch."

"And Oliver?" Lex inquired, with the faint hope that Oliver might have talked to Clark.

"I haven't heard from him since he went off in Lionel's limousine," Clark replied. He noticed the frantic tone in Lex's voice. "Why? Is something up?"

"Not much," Lex answered. "Only that Oliver Queen is about to lose his birthright, and Wayne's empire is lingering on the edge of an abyss. I'll be in touch later."

Lana seemed confused by Lex's rattled behaviour. It was more than his concern about the deteriorating Wayne-Queen friendship. "It's Lionel, isn't it," Lana realized.

"Queen Enterprises will be just an aperitif on my father's corporate menu," Lex explained. "He'll discard Ollie the moment he has the remainder of the Queen fortune. He'll funnel those assets into a campaign to destroy Wayne Enterprises. He'll do whatever it takes: strike-breaking, coups d'etats, bribes, extortion. He once told me a man is defined by his enemies. The Wayne dynasty is his primary target. Bruce doesn't have the ruthless instinct to prepare for a war of that magnitude. I have to warn him, and Ollie."

The doorbell rang again. Lex put on his loafers and stumbled to the door.

"What is it?" Lex barked. He almost swallowed his tongue when he recognized his visitor.

Those blue-grey eyes. The golden locks cascading around her shoulders. That smile – the smile that had once ensnared Bruce Wayne and won Oliver Queen's heart.

It was Dinah Lance. No longer a schoolgirl, Dinah was dressed in a smart navy-blue business suit and skirt. Lex noticed the badge on her breast pocket.

"Hello, Alexander," Dinah beamed. "Are you going to give your old classmate a hug, or are you just going to let me stand out here?"

Lex stepped outside and embraced her warmly, then urged Lana to come forward. "Lana Lang is my partner at the Talon in Smallville. Lana, this is ..."

"Special Agent Dinah Lance, FBI," Dinah shook Lana's hand. "As usual, Lex, you're surrounded by pretty girls."

"He's well-behaved now," Lana replied. "I think."

Lex ushered them to the den. He hastily removed his files from the table and poured Dinah a cup of coffee.

"I'd better go, or I'll be late for class," Lana checked her watch. "I'll call you if Bruce or Oliver show up at the Talon." When the door closed, Lex finally settled on the couch beside Dinah. She was as stunning as ever, he mused.

"So you're here for business," Lex observed. "For the NAFTA board of review regarding LuthorCorp.'s acquisition of Queen Enterprises' North American assets."

"Yes," Dinah replied, as she brushed aside her blond hair from her shoulders. "Homeland Security just raised the alert to Orange. I'm attached to Senator Williams' security detail. He's serving on the Armed Services Committee, which requested the added protection." Dinah seemed distracted, as she stood up and paced around the den. "Do you get along as famously with Lionel as you did before?" she remarked.

"Definitely," Lex replied. "If you can call severing my ties with LuthorCorp. and creating my own rival firm as a sign of our familial closeness."

Dinah studied the stained-glass windows of the Luthors' resurrected castle. "Lex – is it true?" She held her breath. "It's just that, it's so hard to believe what's in the media nowadays."

Lex understood what she meant. She wanted to know if Oliver Queen was really alive. The break-up between Oliver and Dinah was acrimonious. Oliver had no time for her, and she had no time for him to grow up. The press suggested that he had cheated on her – some Czech supermodel called Irina – but Lex didn't believe it. Dinah was the only woman Ollie loved. As a courtesy, Lex and Bruce had broken the news that Oliver's yacht was lost at sea in French Polynesia. She was devastated.

And now he was alive. Lex was worried about her reaction to the truth.

"Dinah, it's true," Lex declared calmly. "It's true. Oliver Queen is alive!"

Dinah didn't react at first. She sipped her coffee, and strolled to the window. Suddenly, she dropped her cup. The liquid splattered all over the floor. She held her hand to her mouth, struggling to muffle a sob. The FBI agent sunk to the ground and wept, stunned at the news that Oliver was not a dream. Not a spirit that haunted her since the day he disappeared one year ago.

He was flesh-and-blood.

Lex rushed to her side and cradled her head against his shoulders, comforting her. "You should see his eyes, Dinah. The Emerald Archer has returned. He's a bit sunburnt, slightly gaunt – but it's Ollie."

Dinah laughed between her tears. "Emerald Archer. He loved that nickname, that fool."

"Bruce will be in town, too," Lex revealed. He wasn't sure if she'd be able to handle the appearance of both her ex-boyfriend and the Gotham son who almost won her heart.

"Bruce and Alfie are here?" Dinah grinned, wiping a tear from her eye as she stood up and adjusted her jacket. "Bruce ..."

"What if, eh?" Lex smiled. He had long wondered how Bruce's life might have changed if he and Dinah had become an item.

"Yeah," Dinah nodded, "What if."

"Oliver must be at LuthorCorp." Lex realized, and the imminent danger awoke him. "Dinah, we can see Oliver. Right now. Oliver's just mad at Bruce for last night, but once he sees you're here, I know he'll agree with our plans." He tugged at her arm.

"No," Dinah resisted. "I can't see him. Not now."

"He's a changed man, Dinah," Lex replied. "He's spent a tropical purgatory reflecting on all the reckless mistakes he's made. Once he sees you, you two can start fresh. Turn a new page on your lives."

"He died, Lex!" Dinah declared, struggling to regain her focus. The news of his return was too much, too soon. "You and Bruce told me he was lost. A part of me shrivelled up and disappeared that night, when I lost all hope. I accepted his death – can you understand that? Now you're telling me the man I once loved, the man whose soul I prayed for ... has returned from the grave?!"

"What are you telling me, Dinah?" Lex was puzzled. "I'm not following."

"It's over between us, Ollie and me," Dinah stated. "Lex, it's over. I cried for days after you and Bruce visited me. I felt that going to Quantico might help me mend, and it has. My FBI work focused my thoughts on other matters. But the memory of Oliver Queen was never far from me. How could he be anywhere else? After one year, I believed that I had moved on at last. And now ..."

Lex settled on the couch. "His ghost has returned to haunt you again. You're partly right. The Ollie that you and I knew from Metropolis U. – the bull-headed, impetuous one – he died in the South Pacific. But the Ollie whose friendship never wavered ... the Ollie who won over the most incredible woman in our freshman class ... he's as alive as you or I. You can't mean that, Dinah. That's it's over between the two of you."

Dinah cradled a cup of coffee, and studied its rising vapours. She set down the cup, and as an afterthought, she began to clean up the spilled coffee on the floor. Lex immediately took the tea rag away from her hands.

"You don't need to do that, Dinah," Lex insisted. "You're one of the few good memories I have of my college years. You're a friend – and Lex Luthor looks out for friends."

"We are friends, and that's not going to change, Lex," Dinah replied, giving Lex's shoulder an affectionate squeeze. "I have to return to Metropolis: the mandatory perimeter search of the Metropolis Congress Centre. No-fly zones over the city. Homeland Security is taking no chances. I have responsibilities. I'm Special Agent Lance now. It's not frosh week anymore."

Lex halted in front of her. "Ollie would really like to see you again, I'm sure. When you're ready."

Dinah tied her blond hair into a ponytail, and adjusted a few loose locks. "Tell Bruce and Alfie that I said hi. And tell Oliver that –" She paused, as one year of mourning threatened to overwhelm her again.

"I'll tell him you said hi," Lex replied as he opened the panelled doors of the manor. "Ollie may try to see you, you know."

"I know," Dinah walked to her sedan. "I honestly don't know what I'm going to do if or when I see him again."

Lex watched her car pull away, and closed the door. The arrival of Dinah Lance changed everything. Lionel might try to dazzle Ollie with devilish offers of corporate directorships and foreign travels, but Lex knew that Dinah Lance was in the city. He was sure that Oliver would drop everything for a chance to meet his former flame again.

He was going to LuthorCorp. to find Oliver. He summoned his driver and continued to dial city hall. "Yes, it's Lex Luthor. I need to get in touch with the mayor's office. Please tell Mr. Wayne that it's an urgent call from Lex Luthor. No, I won't leave a message! I want it hand-delivered to Bruce Wayne and I want you to call me to confirm that you delivered it to him personally."

If I'm lucky, Lex thought, I might be able to get in touch with Bruce during a break in the meeting. He would physically drag Oliver away from LuthorCorp.'s offices, if necessary.

His father's scheming would end, he told himself. It ends this morning.


	9. CH 9

(LuthorCorp. Headquarters, Metropolis)

Kristy, the receptionist for LuthorCorp.'s executive floor, browsed through this month's Cosmo magazine. Lionel and Oliver Queen had been in a meeting for the past hour. No one had called her desk since 9:30 this morning. It was going to be a slow day, she grumbled to herself.

She heard the 'ding' of the elevator. When the elevator doors opened, she shuddered.

Lex Luthor, dressed in his usual black suit and monochrome purple shirt and tie, marched forward. His eyes focused on the solid oak doors of Lionel Luthor's corner office.

"Uhh, I beg your pardon, Mr. Luthor," Kristy declared, as she tried in vain to intercept Lex. "Your father left me with specific instructions that he was not to be disturbed. He said he has important business to discuss with Mr. Oliver Queen."

"That's true," Lex replied, still glaring at the doors to the executive suite. "His 'business' is to eviscerate what's left of Oliver's corporate holdings and funnel those assets to destroy Bruce Wayne. My business is with my father, so I'd suggest you return to your desk."

Kristy knew better than to argue with a Luthor – any Luthor – and returned to her desk. Lex yanked open the suite doors. At the other end of the room, Lionel stood at the panoramic window beside Oliver. He appeared to be showing Oliver the sky-high view of Metropolis' downtown core.

"Oh, Lex," Lionel noted. He didn't seem surprised that Lex had burst into his office. "I was just showing Oliver here the magnificent view of the city."

"Really," Lex countered sarcastically. "Are you showing him the kingdoms of the earth, if only he would genuflect on bended knee before you?"

"Lex, you don't understand," Oliver insisted.

"Can't you see, Ollie," Lex pleaded, "my father is manipulating you. He's dangling a few scraps of bait, hoping you'll snap it up. I can't believe you're not going to fight to re-take what is yours by birthright!"

Lionel sighed in frustration. "That's a simplistic interpretation, Lex." He stood proudly behind Oliver, and clapped his shoulder in a fatherly manner. "I've explained to Oliver that he's capable of more than the 'scraps of bait' that you and that charlatan Bruce are offering. Why should he be content as your junior partner, when I've offered him free reign over territory stretching from Calcutta to Manila? If he went along with you, he'd be in your debt. What sort of friend are you, that you'd gladly put such a restraining leash around his neck?"

"I don't know what brand of voodoo economics my father's been preaching to you," Lex argued, "but he's pushing a pipe dream. You can't possibly believe that you can forge your own Asian corporate empire from scratch: start-up capital, investors, personnel, real estate ... where the hell are you going to find all that if you sacrifice what's left of Queen Enterprises to LuthorCorp.?"

"Land, stocks and people are all material things," Lionel replied. "Objects to be bought and sold at the right price. I am offering Oliver a vision of the future. A vision, Lex! Something you and Wayne appear to lack."

"As I've told you," Oliver explained, "my exile in the South Pacific gave me purpose. A reason for being. I'm my own man, Lex. I won't leave myself vulnerable by tying myself to Bruce's purse-strings. Or yours for that matter. If my path has led me to Lionel Luthor, perhaps that's karma."

Lex seemed stunned at Oliver's apparent about-face. Was he really turning his back on his college chums to ally himself with his father? Was Bruce right when he said in that memo that Oliver was a poor judge of character?

"Oliver, I'm asking you as a friend," Lex insisted. Lionel paced towards the window, uninterested in what Lex had to say. "If you think my father's promises will give you the independence you've wanted, you're deluding yourself. I know Bruce can be stubborn: that's no secret. But can't you see what my father is doing? He'll use your family's fortune to wage a war of annihilation against Wayne Enterprises. All the social justice and environmental projects that you've advocated will be swept away in LuthorCorp.'s new corporate order. Is that the future you want, Oliver?"

Oliver paused. Lionel pledged that he wouldn't interfere in Oliver's future projects. He wanted to use his fortune responsibly. He had some suspicions about Lionel's intent – but Lionel seemed so genuine over dinner. Was it all an act? At least he appeared to be willing to look past his faults, unlike Bruce Wayne.

"Lionel's pledged that he would not interfere in my future environmental and social justice projects," Oliver declared, as if saying those words would make them true.

"If you believe that, Oliver," Lex scoffed, "then perhaps your subtropical exile made you delusional. I want to remain your friend, but –"

"But what?" Oliver demanded.

"The state of affairs between my father and me isn't going to improve," Lex observed. "In fact, I expect it to get worse. Bruce may be stubborn, but he's also my friend. I won't allow LuthorCorp. to crush him. Not without a fight. If you choose to place your fate in my father's hands – and withdraw your protest before the NAFTA board – I fear our friendship will be the first of many casualties of this war."

Lex was about to storm out of the suite, but he turned around. "You should know, Oliver, that Dinah Lance is here. In Metropolis."

"Dinah?" Oliver gasped. "She's here?! Why? Have you spoken to her?"

"She says it's over between you," Lex replied, as he struggled to reconcile his loyalty to Oliver with his mistrust of his father. "I don't know if she's ready to see you yet. It's up to you how you take things from there. I just thought you should know."

"No, Lex, wait –" Oliver pleaded, but Lex had already closed the suite doors behind him.

"Let him go, Oliver," Lionel said. "I'm sorry you had to be a witness to our on-going family spat." Oliver returned to reviewing the documents on the table, but Lionel noticed that he seemed distracted.

Lionel snickered. Lex, that was quite cunning, he thought. To tug at Oliver's heart-strings like that with Dinah Lance. It could be an unforeseen obstacle, but he was confident his plan would proceed. He would take what's left of Queen Enterprises, discard Oliver in the Far East, and liquidate Queen's assets. He needed that capital for his war chest.

Then, he grinned, that blessed day would arrive. The day when he would challenge Wayne in one final showdown: on equal terms. He would break apart Wayne Enterprises, one piece at a time.

With Queen's entire fortune at his disposal, nothing would stop him.

(Smallville High, Smallville)

The bell announced the end of second period. Clark yawned.

"Let me guess," Pete said, "you've had your fill of integers and the new math."

"Something like that," Clark replied. "It's just that I was at the museum so late last night."

"Oh right," Pete muttered. He was a bit disappointed that he wasn't able to go, but the Torch needed his story. And, he was able to witness the Crows' miraculous upset victory. "Maybe I'll be able to meet Oliver Queen later on." He noticed that Clark seemed distracted, or sad. "C'mon, Kent, what's up? I can see something's eating away at you."

"Oliver might decide to abandon that alliance with Lex and Bruce –" Clark answered, still in disbelief, "-- and take sides with Lionel!"

"You've gotta be kidding me," Pete shook his head. "Didn't Lionel gobble up most of Queen Enterprises when Oliver disappeared in that yachting race? It doesn't make sense."

Clark's cell phone rang. "Hello? Lex?"

"Clark," Lex called from the headset in his Porsche. "Things aren't looking too good. Ollie means to take up my father's offer."

"What?!" Clark gasped. "Why would he? Can't he see that Lionel's only using him to get at the Queen fortune?"

"It makes no sense to me," Lex replied, "I'm heading to city hall right now. Hopefully I can get in touch with Bruce before he leaves for Gotham. Our grand coalition is toast without him. You have a spare now, right?"

"Yeah, I do," Clark answered, "What's your plan?"

"You don't have the historical baggage that Bruce and I bring to the table," Lex realized. "Perhaps you can convince him to stay clear of my father. It's for his own good -- and ultimately Bruce Wayne's. If I can't find Bruce at city hall, I'll catch up with him at the Four Seasons. Meet me there at noon, whatever happens."

"Will do," Clark hung up his phone. "Pete, have you seen Chloe around?"

Pete paused outside the door of his next class. "Now that you mention it, I haven't seen her at all. Not since last night at the Torch. She blew off homeroom this morning. That's at least worth a detention."

"She blew off homeroom?" Clark wondered. "That's not like her. Usually she'd be bright-eyed and eager for class in the morning, fuelled by several cups of coffee."

"Well, she is spending a lot of time in Metropolis," Pete observed. "To tell you the truth, she's been acting kind of odd these past few days. She was at Metropolis U. the other day. Something about biology homework at the library. She's reading Le Carre spy novels, too. As if the Wall of Weird stuff weren't enough mystery in her life!"

"Hmm," Clark replied. "Biology wouldn't exactly be a priority for her, especially if the Torch has to get to the printer this week. Maybe it's extra-credit? I've got to go find Oliver Queen. Before –" Clark seemed distracted again.

"Before what, Clark?" Pete asked, before he entered his next class.

"Before Queen gives up the family business to Lionel Luthor," Clark stated.

Oliver's behaviour was unusual, he thought. He should despise Lionel for stealing his family fortune. He was barely clinging on to the Queens' diamond mining operations. Yet, he was now considering a formal partnership with LuthorCorp. With Bruce likely departing for Gotham City this afternoon, Lex's plans were unravelling quickly.

Clark wanted to ask Chloe if she found out any new information about Queen Enterprises, Lionel's plans or the elusive Dinah Lance. She was nowhere to be found and wasn't answering her phone. As he walked out of the school exit, he descended a few steps.

He stopped at the bottom steps, as he began to link several days' worth of unrelated facts.

Bruce was at Metropolis U. the same day Pete and Chloe had gone there. Pete was covering the training camp for the Crows. Chloe said she needed to use the college library. That made sense, he thought, but he also knew that Chloe often used the archives in the School of Journalism. She even slipped into a lecture or two. Was she there to look up information about Oliver Queen, without raising Pete's suspicions? Clark regretted lying to Chloe about his past frequent heroics. It was a necessity, he believed. Was she now risking her friendship with Pete, so that she could investigate more about Queen, and his rift with Bruce Wayne?

Bruce, he gasped in fright.

Clark realized what he had done. Chloe was reading spy novels. Clark recalled a conversation he had with Alfred, Bruce's butler. He was not only a butler, but Bruce Wayne's unofficial bodyguard. Clark knew that Bruce hated guns, but Alfred always hid a gun in the glove compartment. '_One can never be too careful in Gotham_,' Alfred had confided. Alfred was extremely private, but Clark gathered from Bruce that Alfred once served in the British Army and had worked in Intelligence. '_He'd rather not talk about his intelligence activities_,' Bruce had cautioned him once. '_It's a sensitive subject for him_.'

Chloe loved a good mystery, and he had just served her an irresistible one: complete with high society friends, a jilted lover and a Cold War butler-spy. By encouraging Chloe to investigate Queen's past, Clark feared, did I also encourage her to dig into Bruce Wayne's secretive past? It was unavoidable that she would come across Bruce's studies in Metropolis. Would Bruce's arrival there – at the same time as Oliver, Lex and Ms. Lance – only feed her curiosity?

Clark turned on the ignition of his truck. He'd have to figure out Chloe's odd behaviour later.

Right now, he decided, I need to find Oliver Queen. He called Kristy, the receptionist. He had visited LuthorCorp. so many times when Lex still worked there, that she already knew him on a first-name basis. She assumed he was a family friend of the Luthors, and Clark didn't exactly give her any reason to distinguish between Lex and Lionel.

"I'm sorry, Clark," she answered in her too polite, don't-take-up-too-much-of-my-Cosmo-reading-time tone, "but Mr. Queen left about 15 minutes ago."

"Did he leave with Lionel?" Clark inquired.

"No, he didn't," Kristy replied. "Lionel has a meeting with the legal guys uptown. I believe Mr. Queen said he had personal matters to attend to. Sorry."

Clark hung up the cell phone and drove towards Metropolis. Where could Oliver Queen be? Lex said that Oliver likes to clear his mind by playing sports. He's on the verge of a monumental decision, he thought. Oliver would want some time to himself.

Clark slammed the brakes of his truck. The archery range on Metropolis U.'s south campus! He had to be there. Where else would the Emerald Archer go, if he wanted to be alone – and make up his mind on something as important as the family empire?

I have about two hours, he told himself.

Make them count.


	10. CH 10

(Archery range, Metropolis U. campus)

Clark pulled his truck into the Athletics Department parking lot. He checked his watch. He had a little more than an hour to talk to Oliver, before returning to the Four Seasons Metropolis. With any luck, Lex would have already convinced Bruce to stay.

There were at least two dozen archery targets aligned in a row. He could easily super-sprint around the field, but Oliver could be watching. Forget that idea, Clark frowned. There were plenty of trees obscuring a clear view of the range, so he had to search every one.

Distracted by his thoughts, Clark failed to notice the '_Keep Out! Archery Ranges in Use_!' warning signs. He heard a slight buzz in the air. He used his enhanced vision to spot a thin object in the air. An arrow was arcing directly towards him!

Clark instinctively ducked and dove into the ground. A few feet away, he heard the arrow zip just above him. A 'thud' behind him indicated that it had hit the target several feet away.

"Clark!" someone yelled at him. Clark brushed off the grass from his jeans and looked up. It was Oliver Queen. He had discarded his business suit for a Metropolis U. Athletics track suit.

Clark glanced at the target. Queen's arrow had nailed the red bullseye. "Nice shot," Clark offered.

"Nothing on earth could have stopped that arrow," Oliver observed. "If you hadn't hit the ground, that arrow would've gone straight through your throat!"

"I'm just lucky, I guess," Clark suggested, sheepishly.

"Next time you think about taking a walk on campus," Oliver warned, "you should keep your wits about you. It's a live archery range. Arrows everywhere. You're a big guy, but getting an arrowhead embedded in you -- well, it ain't pretty." He slung his quiver on his shoulder and began walking towards the field entrance.

Oliver wasn't interested in small-talk, Clark observed. But he couldn't just let Oliver sell away his family birthright to Lionel, who was surely exploiting him to move against Wayne Enterprises.

Oliver anticipated why Clark was there. "Look, I know Lex probably put you up to this. And don't get me wrong, I'm impressed with your loyalty to him. Him and Bruce. But, don't you get it. We don't fit in their world." He spotted a bench, and nodded at Clark to take a seat.

"With all the wealth and privilege I had," Oliver continued, "I always felt 'not good enough' to be their friend. That's why I pushed myself to excel. Unfortunately, on those occasions when I did beat them at school or in sports -- it only made them more guarded around me." He wiped his brow with a towel, and took a sip from his water bottle. He was tired, but not because of his workout. He was tired of having to prove to Lex and Bruce that he was worthy to be their friend. He had spent his whole life living up to the expectations of others.

Now, he wanted to fulfil his own expectations.

"I don't presume to understand your relationship with Lex and Bruce," Clark replied. "And if you want to tell me it's none of my business, go right ahead. I was hoping you'd see beyond the horizon."

"Beyond the horizon," Oliver laughed sarcastically. "You know the only thing I could look forward to every day, stuck on that godforsaken island in the South Pacific? It was waiting for the day to come, as the sun came up over the horizon. I've spent an entire year looking at that horizon. I had lost everything. Lionel had seized the Queen empire, Dinah had walked out of my life, Bruce had killed our partnership. Was I looking for an escape at the time? You're damn right I was! To my dismay, I got far more than I had bargained for. I was about 100 nautical miles southwest of Tahiti when Tropical Storm Gayle caught up with me ... I tried so hard to keep the rigging tied down ... but the waves, they just wouldn't stop ... I could have gone overboard so many times ... and the rain, my god the rain ..."

Clark saw his emerald eyes. The same haunted look he had seen, staring out from the Daily Planet's front page on the day he was rescued.

"I didn't mean to bring up bad memories," Clark apologized. "I'm sorry."

"The thing is, Clark," Oliver added, "I don't think I'll ever rid myself of those nightmares. When I found myself on that island, I knew I had gotten my second chance. To fix things. The Oliver Queen that Lex and Bruce knew -- the fool that partied hard and wasted away his fortunes on girls and gadgets, he died. He died fighting that tropical storm! I blacked out, and woke up on a beach a new man. Reborn. I'm a different person now, but Lex and Bruce don't seem to get it."

He checked his watch. "I've got to hit the shower, and prepare for tomorrow's news conference."

"-- where you're going to announce your alliance with LuthorCorp." Clark grumbled. "Lionel Luthor's not to be trusted. He is using you."

"Using me?" Oliver challenged. "It seems to be both Lex and Bruce were using me. Lex to wage his private war with his father, and Bruce to target me for some sort of misdirected childhood guilt. When we had that blow-out, just before I left for the race, I knew I had said too much. No one could possibly know what Bruce has been through. Not me, not Lex ... not even you, Clark. Frankly, I don't know how much more we can do to help him. All that's out of my control."

"So that's it, then," Clark answered, irritated. "The final curtain for the great Wayne-Queen-Luthor coalition? The three of you had the power to thwart LuthorCorp.'s ruthless deeds in the business world, in the environment and in society. And, because of your bruised high society egos, the three of you are simply going to walk away from it -- while Lionel does what he pleases with your fortune. You could have made a difference. You're telling me you've changed. If all you're going to do is look out for yourself, and allow Lionel to tear apart your childhood friendships ... then maybe you haven't changed at all."

Oliver had quickened his pace: he wasn't interested in yet another lecture. Clark wasn't going to give up, and halted in front of him.

"Think about what you're doing, Oliver," Clark pleaded. "Lionel might let you do what you like in Asia, but back here, he'll use your inheritance to destroy Bruce -- one subsidiary at a time. We both know there's not a whole lot we can do about Lex's feud with his father; that's why Lionel doesn't care if Lex gets trampled in this fight. He wants this wedge between you guys, don't you see? He's the one using Bruce and Lex to exploit you. If he finds a way, he'll probably use Dinah Lance, too." Clark went for broke and invoked Ms. Lance's name, unsure if that past relationship might cause Oliver to stop and think.

"Dinah's left me for good," Oliver mumbled. "She wants nothing to do with me now. Lex told me so. It's over." He spun around to face Clark. "What would you have me do, Kent? Crawl up to Bruce and Lex with my tail between my legs, and beg them to let me into their freaking elitist clique? You and I are average joes caught up in their blueblood dramatics. Lionel's offered me an out. A new path, and I'm taking it! If you want to remain my friend, stay the hell out of this!"

"I'm trying to be your friend," Clark argued, "but you're so caught up in feeling wronged that you can't see how to set things right. Look over that horizon. I'm not asking you to become their lackey. After all you've been through, they can't expect you to sit on the sidelines. You're their equal in every respect, maybe even more so because of your ordeal. Show them what you've become."

"So what are you asking me to prove?" Oliver demanded.

"I'm asking you to prove them wrong, Oliver Queen," Clark replied, as he headed towards the parking lot.

Oliver took another sip of his water bottle. In frustration, he hurled it at a tree trunk. He was confused. He had allowed so many issues to become buried in discreet behaviour and obscure upper-class honour codes. That was how they were all raised. Now, those issues had returned to torment him.

He walked into the locker rooms. Ollie, what are you going to do tomorrow, he asked himself.

* * *

(Four Seasons Hotel, Metropolis) 

Chloe nervously tapped her pen against the arm rest. She had been sitting in the hotel's ornate lobby for the past hour, with no sign of either Bruce Wayne or Alfred. She was still annoyed that she had actually 'left' a message with the front desk. Alfred warned her to be discreet. Now, all her efforts might be for nothing.

What if Lionel has spies at the Four Seasons, Chloe feared. Her stomach began to swirl in loops, like a Six Flags rollercoaster. If Lionel found out she was working against him -- the game was all over.

A hotel bellhop approached her. "Miss Sullivan?"

"Yes?" Chloe asked.

"A friend is waiting for you," the bellhop replied. "Pinkerton's Pub and Grill." The pub was near the hotel's west entrance. Chloe picked up her laptop and scurried to the grill. In a darkened corner booth, Alfred calmly sipped a cup of orange pekoe tea.

Alfred immediately showed her the crumpled message she had left at the front desk. "This is hardly discreet, Chloe."

"I know, I know," Chloe sighed in relief. "Won't happen again. Was that guy I met at the MSE ... Westerling?"

Alfred huffed, apparently shocked that Chloe would think the CIA would be so obvious. "Hardly, Miss Sullivan. I've never met Westerling. I only know his voice; he only knows mine. Whoever you met was likely one of his runners."

Chloe pulled out the confidential file. "It looks like a FBI threat assessment file that they passed on to Wayne Enterprises -- one week before the Wayne-Queen partnership was to go ahead."

Alfred reviewed the document, which had been heavily censored -- except for a few paragraphs. "Apparently, there was a confirmed threat against Wayne and Queen assets and personnel: Queen's diamond mines in Finland, Master Bruce's shipping ports in Egypt. There seems to have been a threat against the actual Star City news conference where the partnership was to have been announced."

"Do you think Langley might have told Mr. Fox to kill the deal?" Chloe suspected.

"That is possible," Alfred nodded. "The CIA must have had some field agents infiltrating the group who made the threat. They didn't want to tip their hand yet -- whether or not it strained Bruce's friendship with Oliver. _Kriegsvolk_, eh? An obscure Bonn-based anarchist group, but with powerful ties to the Russian underworld."

Chloe folded the file, and quickly put on her jacket . "So we have what we need right? We just give this to Bruce and Oliver, and everything will be cleared up!"

Alfred grabbed her arm. "'We' are doing nothing. 'You' have done more than enough. Now, it is too dangerous for your continued involvement. _Kriegsvolk_, they're supplied by ultra-nationalists in the Russian military. Thugs in Red Army uniforms. You do not cross these men -- that much I do know. I'll bring this to Bruce's attention ... and Oliver should definitely see this right away. Thank you, Chloe. Now make yourself scarce, before the Wayne entourage returns from city hall.

Chloe wanted to be there when Alfred gave the information to Bruce and Oliver, but she had learned that Alfred knew when discretion was needed. No one might ever know how she had helped, but she had helped. And that knowledge made her feel pretty good.

She was too busy thinking about the small victory she had achieved, when she spotted Lex Luthor. Wrapped in a black overcoat, he was busily scanning the lobby -- as if he was looking for someone. Chloe thought of ducking into the women's washroom, but it was too late.

Lex's eyes had noticed the familiar blond wisps of hair among the hotel patrons. He didn't seem angry, but you could never tell with Lex Luthor. He could be smiling at you, but his intent could be anything but friendly.

"Chloe Sullivan, editor of The Torch," Lex declared, as he strolled across the lobby to meet her. "The Crows' training camp is at Metropolis U., so I gather you're not here to follow-up on last night's victory."

"That's right," Chloe replied. Say as little as possible, she cautioned herself.

"They why is it, Chloe," Lex inquired mildly, "that the Torch's intrepid reporter is here -- in the Four Seasons Hotel, the most exclusive hotel in the city? The same hotel, I might add, which Bruce Wayne and his entire entourage have adopted as their home away from home during the NAFTA hearings. It must be quite a story, to have pulled you away from your editorial duties at Smallville High."

Alfred was nowhere to be found. Lex knew something was up -- and he wasn't going to leave without an answer that satisfied him.

Chloe grinned at him, seemingly helpless. What else could she do?

She was trapped.


	11. CH 11

(Four Seasons Hotel Metropolis)

Lex studied Chloe carefully. What is she doing in Bruce Wayne's hotel, he wondered.

"This story you're working on wouldn't have anything to do with tomorrow's NAFTA board of review -- would it?" he inquired. If she was snooping around Bruce Wayne, he wanted to put an end to it. As stubborn as Bruce was, Lex thought, the guy deserved his personal space. Privacy -- and Chloe Sullivan had walked right into that refuge.

"Well, yes and no, actually," Chloe replied as cheerily as she could. There was no need to raise Lex's suspicions about her real purpose here.

"You have my attention, Chloe," Lex smirked. "I'm interested in hearing about the Smallville High angle to what would seem to be an obscure NAFTA hearing concerning mundane transcontinental treaty regulations." Chloe had a sharp mind, he observed, but she had a tendency to be reckless: a truth-driven zealot who occasionally stuck her nose into business that wasn't hers.

"That's why I need to see Alfred," Chloe replied. She evaded a direct answer -- for now. She was going to be at the hearing, she decided. She remembered that a past Smallville High grad had gone to Georgetown U. and was a Senate page for Congressman Walters. The congressman was also sitting on the NAFTA board of review! I have my story, she grinned quietly.

"Alfred?" Lex exclaimed. "And how does Mr. Pennyworth fit into your story?" At that moment, Alfred crossed into the foyer. He was carrying a plain manila folder and what appeared to be a laminated badge.

"Ah yes, there you are," Alfred stated. "Miss Sullivan, I took the liberty of obtaining a press pass for you. You'll need it for tomorrow's NAFTA hearing. Congressman Walters will be busy at the hearing, but I'm sure that hometown chap who's on his staff wouldn't mind talking to the Torch editor, a future Smallville High alumnus."

"Yes! That's right," a relieved Chloe beamed, as she gratefully accepted the press pass. She didn't remember suggesting to Alfred that she had a story angle for the NAFTA hearing, but Alfred had long since proven that he was resourceful at finding things out.

He was also good at covering his tracks.

Lex noted Alfred's disinterested manner and the ironclad reason he gave for Chloe's presence here. Lex wasn't sure if Chloe was up to more than prep-work for her interview tomorrow, but Alfred had even less patience for nosiness than he did. Bruce's loyal butler would have slammed the door on any Bruce-related inquiries from Chloe. Maybe she only wanted that press pass?

Lex shrugged. "Well, I'm sure Chloe will learn a lot about how government works tomorrow." He turned his attention to Alfred, who was still wearing an overcoat. "You're back from city hall? How did Bruce's meeting with our civic leaders go?"

Alfred groaned. "Once the Wayne lawyers and those dreary city lawyers began 'negotiating' the terms of that real estate development, Master Bruce gave me a subtle cue to get out of there while I could. It appears he will be taking a working lunch. I took the opportunity to make myself scarce and grab something to eat. He should be back later this afternoon."

Lex checked his watch. "Clark should be here shortly. He was trying to convince Queen not to go along with the LuthorCorp. alliance. With any luck, it's not too late."

"Actually," Alfred took Lex aside. "I have something that Bruce and Oliver should see as soon as possible. I'd prefer to discuss this with you, privately."

Chloe guessed that Alfred was up to something, and saw her opportunity to escape. "Thanks for the pass, Mr. Pennyworth. I'll see you at the Congress Centre tomorrow!" She hurried out of the hotel's revolving doors.

"Impetuous young lady," Alfred sniffed, giving the impression that he was weary of kids in general.

Lex chuckled. "You're telling me." Alfred opened the folder and showed Lex the sanitized FBI threat assessment. Lex rapidly digested what information he could from those paragraphs that hadn't been blacked-out.

"Master Bruce had good reason to be fearful for Queen's safety, if this assessment was any indication," Alfred added. "Langley probably had operatives deep within that terror group, _Kriegsvolk_."

Lex studied the explosive assessment. "The CIA didn't want to tip their hand, even at the expense of the Wayne-Queen partnership. I wouldn't even be surprised if they instructed Lucius Fox to kill the deal: hundreds could have died at that Star City news conference. Both Bruce and Oliver were prime targets. A disaster of that magnitude would surely have rocked stock markets around the world, and sent the federal government reeling. Langley wanted to avoid a domestic political crisis ..."

"And they didn't give a damn if Bruce had to damage his friendship with Oliver to do it," Alfred grimaced. "Thank the heavens I've left the intelligence business for good."

Lex smiled at Alfred slightly. He was aware of Alfred's past life in espionage. "For good? I guess it would be fair to assume you've had to re-enter the cold – briefly – to obtain such classified documents."

"The less you know, the better," Alfred stated firmly. Lex, to Alfred's relief, didn't prod him further about how he obtained the classified documents.

Outside the hotel, Chloe walked a few blocks to catch the noon-hour express bus to Smallville. She was surprised as she ran into Clark, who had just parked and plugged a parking meter along the street.

"Chloe?" Clark blurted. "What are you doing here?" She was close to the Four Seasons Hotel, and he feared the worst: that Chloe was digging into Bruce Wayne's past.

Chloe pulled out her press pass. "Alfred was kind enough to get me some credentials for tomorrow's hearing. Remember that guy, Tom Kells, who went to Georgetown a few years ago? He's now a Senate page, and I was going to do a profile of him. Pete will be covering the Crows' next training camp, so I'm short a photographer. Care to lend your eye to the cause?"

Clark breathed a sigh of relief. Everything she said seemed to add up. If she had gone to the journalism school's archives the other day, she was probably doing research for this profile. That didn't explain her sudden interest in Cold War spy novels, but -- like Pete said -- she always loved a good mystery. It was probably just a passing fancy, he hoped.

"You know," Clark continued, "you blew off homeroom." That, he knew, was out of character for her.

"Well, yeah," Chloe replied. "One detention – in exchange for an in-depth profile of a Smallville grad who's a heartbeat away from Capitol Hill! You've got to roll with the punches, Clark, and take a few risks to get that great story. So can I count on you to be my shutterbug?"

"I guess that's a yes, Chloe," Clark nodded, satisfied that Chloe wasn't investigating Bruce.

"Is something wrong?" Chloe asked. Her friend appeared to be distracted again.

Clark went over the events of the past hour. Oliver Queen was a changed man, whose year in Survivor-like isolation affected him profoundly. He had argued that Oliver needed to prove that he changed, and to prove his school chums wrong. Lex and Bruce did take Oliver's friendship for granted, and Clark could understand why Oliver would be reluctant to become an idle, junior partner in any future Luthor-Wayne arrangement. He wanted to appeal to the adventurer's desire to take risks, to take charge of his own life. The last thing he wanted was for Oliver to become Lionel's willing pawn in some future conquest of Wayne Enterprises. Queen Enterprises was his by birthright; the Emerald Archer should fight to call the shots.

"Oliver Queen's thinking about a strategic alliance with LuthorCorp.," Clark lamented. "I tried to convince him how dangerous Lionel is, but Oliver thinks Lex and Bruce are just using him."

"Talk about Machiavellian boardroom tactics!" Chloe grumbled. She was truly outraged, because she was disgusted with Lionel's cavalier treatment of Oliver's friendships. "Lionel is playing their own insecurities against them. He knows he can't challenge them altogether, so he has to drive them apart. This alliance must be another ploy of his!"

Chloe frowned. She wanted to tell Clark all she knew about Lionel's plans, but that would expose her agreement with the senior Luthor. Then, an ill-prepared Bruce Wayne would be thrust into the awkward position of defending himself against scores of hostile takeovers across the hemisphere. Lionel could pluck away Wayne's assets at his leisure. Wayne Enterprises would be at Lionel's mercy.

"It would be best if you didn't get caught in the crossfire," Clark advised. "I don't know exactly what's going to happen tomorrow, but I don't want you getting caught up in this mess. I'm knee-deep in it as it is, partly because I didn't listen to your advice to butt out. Lionel's a dangerous man: I'm just concerned that you might get stuck in this mess, too."

"Trust me," Chloe replied as casually as she could. "I'm there for my interview with the Senate page. I'll step aside when the billionaires' battle royal starts. You should duck too, once their ego-driven fireworks start!"

When Chloe hopped onto the bus, Clark rushed into the hotel. He spotted Alfred and Lex sitting on a leather couch in the hotel's lobby.

"Hi Alfred, Lex," Clark said, "Have you been able to talk to Bruce?"

"He's stuck in city hall," Lex replied. "I'm afraid we'll have to wait until later this afternoon or evening to give our plan one final chance." He calmly tucked the manila folder into his briefcase. He didn't think it was necessary to let Clark know how they had obtained classified documents – and he preferred that Clark and his Torch friends knew as little as possible about Alfred's intelligence work behind the old Iron Curtain.

"We've learned that the feds likely leaned hard on Lucius Fox to kill the Wayne-Queen partnership," Lex announced.

Clark was stunned. "Really? When did you ... how did you find that out?"

"We have our sources," Alfred admitted. "Rest assured, the information is accurate. There was a credible threat against Master Bruce and Oliver at the proposed Star City news conference."

"The CIA probably had field agents deep within the terror cell," Lex continued. "In this day and age, preserving friendships have become secondary to national security."

"Well then, all we have to do is explain this to Bruce and Oliver," Clark added, "and we can make them understand."

Alfred shook his head. "I fear it might not be quite as simple as that. Master Bruce is extraordinarily stubborn. In his mind – rightly or wrongly – Oliver slighted the memory of Thomas and Martha Wayne. You must understand that he cherishes what few memories he has left of them. Oliver's tirade disturbed him. Bruce's bitterness has lingered so long, I don't even know if an apology will be enough now."

"I don't know how much help I was this morning," Clark continued. "I found Oliver at Metropolis U. He thinks Lex and Bruce are just going to use him. And he's afraid he'd be shoved to the sidelines in any future partnerships."

"I guess we assumed that Ollie was the same guy we knew 18 months ago," Lex answered. "We wanted things to be the way they were." He didn't want to admit it, but both he and Bruce still assumed that Ollie was the same reckless, live-for-the-moment adrenaline junkie they had always known. One who acted without thinking first. In any business deal, Lex realized that Oliver would have been a secondary partner – despite his newfound maturity.

We were arrogant, Lex concluded. Self-important. As if Bruce and I had all the answers. Ollie Queen stared Death in the eye; Death blinked first. We should be learning from him, instead of second-guessing him.

"It could be hours, Clark," Lex offered. "Why don't you return to your classes, and I'll call you if we get a hold of Bruce."

Clark was determined to see this crisis to whatever end. "No, Lex. I don't understand all the family honour codes you, Bruce and Oliver have to abide by ... but I'm not going to sit around class when my friends are in trouble! Lionel's not going to get away with this! We've got to make Bruce understand. Somehow."

"Skipping fourth period? I see a detention in your future, Master Clark," Alfred remarked, which prompted a snicker from both Lex and Clark.

Neither Lex nor Alfred was about to challenge Clark's decision, so Clark took a seat across from the polished mahogany coffee table and waited in the lobby with them.

Bruce may yet save this deal, Clark thought.

Or scuttle it for good.

(Metropolis Express Bus to Smallville)

Aboard the express bus to Smallville, Chloe finally took a deep breath. Her pulse was racing, as she recalled the near miss with Lex at the hotel lobby -- and Clark's surprise appearance. She had to prolong a white lie to protect friends. But the deception and cover-ups were taking a toll on her. She didn't want to think about all the times she had to mislead Pete, Clark or even Lana.

She dialed her cell phone. "Hi, Lana! It's me."

Lana was about to enter the study hall of Smallville High. "Hey, Chloe. Pete said you missed homeroom. Are you alright?"

Clark and Lana might have been less-than-sensitive with her at times, but they (and especially Pete) hadn't done anything recently to make Chloe doubt their friendships.

Which is more than I could say for myself right now, she mumbled to herself.

"I'm -- I'm okay," Chloe replied. "I just had to get my press pass for tomorrow's hearing. I'll be there for the afternoon classes."

Lana sensed that Chloe didn't sound her usual, chipper self. In fact, Chloe seemed to be acting erratically these past few days. "Okay. Is something on your mind? If you need to talk, you know you can talk to me about anything. I'm living at your house, after all."

Chloe laughed. "And I'm surprised my dad hasn't pulled his hair out because of us. He only had one teenage girl to keep tabs on -- and now he has two! Well, at least he's now well-versed in the core themes of _CosmoGirl_ and _The O.C._"

When Chloe hung up later, Lana recalled her brief meeting with "the woman from Oliver Queen's past": Dinah Lance, the woman torn between Gotham City's famous son, and Oliver Queen -- heir to the Queen fortune.

Lana gathered from Lex that Bruce didn't want to get close to Dinah; a shadow seemed to follow Bruce in any relationship. A merciless shadow, which Lex had implied was Gotham City's notorious Crime Alley: the site of the Wayne murders. Dinah's breakup with Oliver was bitter, and news of his initial disappearance was devastating. His surprise rescue one year later would have awoken buried emotions. This Dinah woman had strained Bruce and Oliver's shaky friendship, perhaps beyond repair.

Clark was rushing across Metropolis, trying to save a friendship that might already be unsalvageable.

Lana also wondered if Chloe still wanted to be "just friends" with Clark ... or was she harbouring stronger feelings for him? Feelings that might one day strain their own friendship ...

Lana shook those thoughts from her head. "Focus, Lana Lang," she told herself. "US History ... FDR's 'New Deal' ..."

Clark, she sighed, you worry so much about the problems of others. When are you going to consider your own needs?


	12. CH 12

(The Torch, Smallville)

Pete fiddled with a few Photoshop features on his PC. The Crows' photos had turned out well. He saved them in a file folder; they could be useful in the event the team survived the quarterfinal round next week. He yawned and checked the wall clock. It was ten minutes past nine at night.

"I still have class tomorrow," he said to himself. Chloe had left half an hour earlier; it was one of the rare occasions when she managed to pull herself away from the Torch office before he did. She was excited about attending this NAFTA hearing. It could be a boring event, though he could understand why this particular meeting was of interest to her.

Oliver Queen could announce that he was joining LuthorCorp., and assume a senior executive position in their Asian division. Based in Hong Kong, Oliver would have the entire Far East to explore. But why would Lionel send him to Asia, far away from Queen's Star City roots?

Lionel doesn't do anybody any favours, Pete grunted to himself. He only looks out for himself. The squeak of a computer chair pulled him away from his thoughts.

"Hey Pete," Clark replied, tossing his backpack onto a chair. "Burning the midnight oil, I see."

Pete covered his mouth as he yawned again. "Not much longer, I hope." He noticed that Clark was eyeing Chloe's desk. "You just missed her. She downloaded a massive document from the NAFTA website. Bedtime reading, she said. If you ask me, that's gotta be a surefire way to fall asleep! Whatever floats her boat, I guess."

"Chloe's going to that NAFTA hearing," Clark stated. "She's doing a profile of that Smallville alumnus who's working at Capitol Hill."

"Yeah, I heard," Pete replied. He typed in a caption for one photo and saved it. "I would have gone with her, but I'll be at the Crows' training camp. Man, we're going up against the Topeka Valley Huskies. It's going to be tough. I hear you're going to be Chloe's photographer. Are you sure you know how to use that camera?"

Clark pulled out the shiny silver digital camera. "I think so. I just need to press that silver button and –"The flash snapped accidentally. Both Pete and Clark blinked their eyes at the bright flash.

"I think you need more practice, Kent," Pete joked. They heard a shuffling of feet near the door, and spun their chairs around.

Lionel Luthor stood in the Torch doorway, wrapped in a woolen overcoat and blood-red scarf.

"What the hell are you doing here?!" Pete growled. For a moment, Lionel didn't know what to do. He planned to confront Chloe – to ensure that she would stay out of his way tomorrow. Queen Enterprises was within his grasp. Oliver Queen's Asian exile would confirm that fate. He didn't expect to see the Rosses' son and Clark Kent there.

"I'm actually here to see you, Mr. Kent," Lionel stated calmly. "Only you." He gave no indication that he had any interest in seeing Chloe. He turned towards Pete, and waited. It was a private conversation, which meant he didn't want Pete around to hear any of it.

Pete abruptly shut down his computer and put on his jacket. "I get the message, Lionel. Whatever he says, Clark, don't listen to him! Watch yourself." He glared angrily at Lionel as he left the office.

Clark was about to put on his jacket, when Lionel closed the office door. "Now, now, Kent. There might be some friction between me and the Rosses, but there's no need for you and I to resort to scowls and grudges."

"You have nothing to say to me that I'd be interested in hearing," Clark snapped. "You want Queen's fortune for yourself. That's why you're shoving Oliver off to Hong Kong. And, you want to break apart Wayne Enterprises."

Lionel laughed as he sat on the edge of a desk. "That's quite a fanciful tale you've just spun. I only have Oliver Queen's interests in mind. Don't you see – Lex and Bruce are only serving their own interests! They want Queen to serve as a corporate buffer zone between their firms and the scary demons of globalization. It's not my fault if they're ill-equipped to compete in a free trade market."

Clark ignored him and studied a news article about tomorrow's NAFTA hearing. "I'm busy, Lionel. Say what you have to say, then get out."

Lionel pretended to be shocked. "My, my – we've become blunt. In many respects, I admire that trait. That directness." He studied the posters and notices on the office wall. "You're more like your father than you realize."

"Just spit it out, Lionel," Clark snarled. "I'm not playing word games with you."

"Believe me, Clark," Lionel remarked. "This is no game." He paced towards the exit and looked over his shoulder. "Stay out of this. If not for your sake, then for the sake of your friends."

Clark's eyes widened. Did Lionel just threaten me? "Bruce, Lex and Oliver are my friends. I don't need your permission to help them! And for the record, Oliver hasn't made up his mind yet about your offer."

That revelation caught Lionel's attention. A momentary setback, he mused. I'll make a late-night call to his hotel suite and 'plead' with him to stick to his principles. "What Oliver Queen chooses to do with his life, quite frankly, is totally up to him. You might have dazzled my son with your small-town Boy Scout routine, but Oliver seems to possess what Lex lacks. And that's perspective. You should try it once in awhile."

He strolled up to Clark, until he was within an inch of his face. "I'll deal with Lex and Bruce on my own time. Stick to your homework, Mr. Kent, and stay out of affairs that don't concern you."

"I'll be covering the hearing for the Torch," Clark revealed. "So, I'll see you there tomorrow." He stepped away from Lionel and opened the office door. "Now ... get out. I have work to do."

"Temper, temper, Clark," Lionel chided. "Belligerence doesn't become you." He snickered as he left the office. He got under Clark's skin, and that was a small victory. He knew Clark Kent was hiding something. Perhaps he's ashamed of a secret.

I will find out about it – one day, he decided.

Clark locked the office door. He didn't understand why Lionel came out here to see him. Surely, he thought, Lionel can't think I have any real influence on Oliver's future plans. He thought about telling his parents about Lionel's veiled threat, but his father would likely order him to stay away from the hearing tomorrow.

_It's for your own good, son_, his father would say.

Clark set aside those fears and focused on reading about the NAFTA hearings. Tomorrow, Oliver Queen would choose a partnership with Lex and Bruce (and probably swallow his pride in the process). Or, he would forge an alliance with Lionel Luthor out of some warped need for independence. If so, he would alienate Lex and turn Bruce into an enemy. The only winner in that scenario would be LuthorCorp.

I hope Oliver makes the right choice, Clark thought. He has to.

* * *

(The Sullivan house, Smallville) 

Chloe turned off the car headlights. She thought about staying another hour at the Torch, but she was confident that Pete could handle the layout for the Torch's sports section. When she entered the house, her father was lounging in the living room in his old Metropolis U. sweatshirt.

"Hi, hon," Gabe announced, "How's the Torch going?"

"Pretty good, Dad," Chloe beamed. "We've got a front page cover of the Crows' upset victory over Fawcett City, so 'Yay, Smallville'!"

Gabe Sullivan began to say something, but he stopped himself. Unfortunately, Chloe noticed it.

"You were going to say something, Dad?" she inquired.

"We got a memo from LuthorCorp. head office," he mumbled. "Mr. Luthor says there might be some layoffs ..."

"Oh no," Chloe groaned.

"Look, it's up in the air," Gabe replied. "A lot of my buddies at work are concerned, but Mr. Luthor assured me this afternoon that I've got a good chance of making it past the payroll cuts."

"L-Lionel ... he talked to you ... personally?" Chloe stammered. Her stomach began to churn nervously.

"He called me," Gabe said. "He said that once he gets back from that big trade hearing at the Congress Centre, he'll sit down with his HR people and make a final decision. He says I shouldn't worry."

"That's good to hear," Chloe offered. She sensed that her father was nervous. She would be entering college in a few years, and he was struggling to put aside money for her tuition.

If Lionel fired her dad because of her, Chloe frowned, I don't know what we're going to do. My father deserves better than this.

"Don't worry, Chloe," Gabe hugged his daughter. "I will move heaven and earth to make your dreams come true. You are going to Metropolis U., no matter what. I'll get a second mortgage, whatever it takes."

Later that night, Chloe quietly knocked on Lana's door. Lana was already in her pajamas.

"Back from the Torch, I see," Lana beamed. "You're quite the busy bee these past few days."

"Well, now that I have my press pass for the hearing," Chloe added, "I'll be up to my ears in senators and ministers of state. Pete's got to cover the Crows' training camp, so I've dragooned Clark to be my shutterbug and –"

Lana's nose wrinkled, which led Chloe to believe that Lana felt uncomfortable that she was spending yet another day with Clark Kent. Lana still has strong feelings for Clark, Chloe mused, and nothing I do is going to change that anytime soon.

"Does he know how to use that digital camera?" Lana wondered. "He's not exactly the most technical fellow around."

Chloe, surprised that Lana didn't seem concerned about Clark spending more time with her, giggled at the remark. "I know! I told Clark to practice loading and unloading the film when he gets home. If next week's pictures are out of focus, it'll be the Kent kid's doing."

"How are you doing?" Lana asked. Chloe seemed distracted this entire week. She skipped homeroom the other day, and appeared to be standoffish with Pete lately.

"I'm – I'm doing fine," Chloe replied with a smile. "It's just that I have so much to do: biology, the Torch, trying to get Alfred to tell me about his 007 adventures behind the Iron Curtain ..."

"Alfred's sweet," Lana grinned. "And, yeah, I tried to ask him if he had any girlfriend spies in Berlin. He didn't take the bait and promptly ordered an Earl Grey tea. Anyhow, I think his days in Her Majesty's service are behind him."

"Uhh – yeah, they are," Chloe nodded. She knew better. Alfred had taken a tremendous risk with his investigations. At any time, their work against Lionel could be exposed. There were risks. And now, Lionel had threatened to fire her father. He didn't spell it out that way, but why would he warn her father about the proposed layoffs? Lionel didn't care if Gabe Sullivan was caught in his corporate slugfests with Queen and – eventually – Wayne Enterprises.

That angered her. Her father had nothing to do with Lionel's feud with Lex, or his ego-driven conflicts with Oliver Queen and Bruce Wayne. Lex, Oliver and Bruce could survive whatever disaster might befall their companies – but Gabe Sullivan wasn't part of Metropolis' elite set. He was a hard worker, and it wasn't fair that his head was on the payroll chopping block because of her.

Enough, Chloe grumbled to herself as she locked the bathroom door. She turned on the shower. I know Lionel's blackmailing me, she thought, but I'm not about to cave in to his demands.

Not now, not ever.

The _pitter-patter_ of the water droned continuously. Mercilessly. It forced her to reflect on the danger that was now too apparent. In the unforgiving privacy of the shower stall, she thought about all the risks she had taken. Risks she had freely chosen, because they had to be taken ...

To find the truth.

Alfred seemed tormented by the work he was compelled to do for queen and country. It was a sacrifice he was prepared to make – even now, as he fought to preserve the empire of the late Thomas Wayne and defend Bruce's legacy.

Chloe wondered if she had that courage, that defiance against all odds. She thought about the chance that her father might lose his job. Not because of anything he did, but because of what his daughter failed to do. Lionel wanted to make her into his lackey, and she wouldn't do it.

Am I too proud, she wondered. Sticking to my principles while my father could get a pink slip that he never deserved? It's just my father and me against the world. Against Lionel Luthor and his limitless resources. I love my dad, perhaps more than he realizes.

The _pitter-patter_ of the shower continued. She rubbed her eyes. I'm not upset, she convinced herself.

I am not crying.

It was the shampoo -- it got into my eyes.


	13. CH 13

(Great Hall, Metropolis Congress Centre)

Lex hurried to catch up with Bruce Wayne and Alfred. After several frantic late night phone calls, Lex convinced Bruce to stay in the city.

"I simply can't believe that Ollie will actually go through with this LuthorCorp. alliance," Lex insisted.

"If he does," Bruce warned. "There's no going back. If Oliver Queen joins Lionel's enterprise, it is war. And I intend to win – whatever the cost."

"Perhaps it might not come to that," Lex suggested. "There's still time. Anything could happen. Alexander the Great pushed his Macedonian army to exhaustion during his Indian campaigns, but they revolted at the river Hyphasis: they would go no farther east. My fatherthinks he's already prevailed, but nothing in this life is carved in stone."

"Hope," Bruce scoffed, as he paused in the Great Hall. "That is one luxury we may no longer have. Oliver hasn't returned any of our calls or messages. Maybe he's determined to defy us, out of spite? Out of pride, who really knows?"

Lex hesitated, and pulled out a plain manila folder. He glanced at Alfred, who nodded in approval. "I think you should see this, Bruce." Bruce opened the folder and scanned the heavily sanitized FBI threat assessment.

"Where did you get this?" he demanded.

"It doesn't matter," Lex replied hastily. "Be assured that the source is reliable." He looked over Bruce's shoulder, at Alfred. "I understand why Lucius Fox felt it was necessary to keep this information confidential. The CIA encouraged you to believe that keeping Oliver out of the loop was in his best interests. But now – of all days – is not the time to keep secrets. He should know why Mr. Fox believed he had to kill that deal."

"Oliver needs to know, Master Bruce," Alfred suggested.

"What Oliver needs," Bruce countered, "is a dose of humility and some tact. I might have been prepared to forgive his prior mistakes – out of friendship – but he crossed the line when he slandered my parents' memory …"

"But those were words spoken in haste, Bruce, with no real malice intended!" Alfred snapped. Lex saw the change in the butler's demeanour. No longer a beacon of tranquility, Alfred had become cold and steely. "No one could ever know what you've had to go through in Crime Alley – my god, to watch your parents murdered before your eyes. But if you continue on this path of self-imposed isolation, no one will even try to understand you. Or sympathize with you. You have to let people in, Master Bruce. You must."

Lex felt uncomfortable, watching a rare spat between Alfred and Bruce. He tried to comprehend how difficult it must have been for Bruce to cope with the haunting memory of his slain family. He also sympathized with Alfred, who had done everything imaginable to keep Bruce from falling into the darkness forever. He feared it was a losing battle.

"When Alexander the Great died," Lex added, "he left his empire to the strongest, because he couldn't trust those closest to him. He conquered the world, but at the expense of true friendship. Oliver Queen is one of our closest friends. At least listen to what he has in mind, before you declare a cold war against him."

Bruce appeared to relent. "I'll attend the NAFTA hearing," he replied, "but I will not allow any alliance with LuthorCorp. to continue unchallenged. If Lionel seeks a corporate Armageddon with Queen at his side, so be it. He shall have one."

Lex frowned, as Bruce walked briskly into the committee room. Alfred merely sighed.

This was precisely what they wanted to avoid.

* * *

(Madison Room, Metropolis Congress Centre) 

Clark fumbled with the shiny silver digital camera. Thankfully, he grinned, I figured out how to keep the automatic flash from going off.

"Can I trust you with that technology, Clark?" Chloe inquired; she wasn't exactly kidding.

"I practised with it," Clark insisted. "Pete's much better with cameras, but I think I've got the hang of it."

Clark and Chloe peered into the bright committee room. Dozens of ministers, secretaries of state and government officials had already taken their seats. The podium on the centre stage remained empty – for now. A few sound technicians tested the microphones, while the lighting flickered in a series of tests.

"It would be a good time to take some establishing shots of the event – perhaps you can get a photo of Congressman Walters with the alumnus from Smallville High," Chloe suggested.

"Yeah, that would be good," Clark agreed. He was still studying the film loading mechanism.

"Umm, I meant 'now' would be a good time," Chloe urged him.

Clark realized what she meant. "Oh, right – before the hearing starts." He scurried around the stage with his camera, eventually framing a photo shot of the congressman with the grad from Smallville High.

The NAFTA board of review "_regarding the Chapter 19 Dispute Settlement Provisions and implications of a LuthorCorp. takeover of Queen Enterprises' North American assets_" began without much fanfare. After the opening remarks, the senators, MPs and advisors began the arduous task of outlining the pros and cons of the takeover. It covered everything from taxation, to cross-border duties, its effect on softwood lumber tariffs and the ever-present concern of continental security.

All this fuss … over a takeover that hasn't even been confirmed yet, Chloe mused. She yawned.

She didn't notice that Lionel had approached her.

"It's not so boring, Miss Sullivan," Lionel remarked. "This is only a skirmish we're seeing now. Play fighting, if you will. Uncle Sam just has to appease the Canadians and Mexicans with some minor concessions. Then, Chloe, you will witness history unfold." He crossed his arms and beamed smugly. "My Austerlitz, Miss Sullivan, and you have the privilege of being its herald."

"I want no part of your despicable plans," Chloe replied. "Even if you've conned Oliver Queen into taking sides with you, you'll find Bruce and Lex to be more formidable than you realize."

Lionel ignored her claims. "When the Battle of Austerlitz had ended, the Russian Czar and the Holy Roman Emperor could only weep – as over 27,000 of their men lay slain at their feet. It was a rout in Napoleon's favour, so complete that an empire fell that day." Lionel said the last phrase gleefully, because he expected an equally complete victory today. "The Holy Roman Empire – which had stood for a thousand years – came to an abrupt end, thanks to Bonaparte. The Queen era is fading, as will Wayne's one day. If Bruce and Lex can't see the inevitability of today's events, there is nothing I can do about their wilful ignorance."

"Are you finished with your historical self-gratification?" Chloe grumbled. "Or do you have more grapeshot to fire off?"

"Now, there's no need to be hostile," Lionel pretended to plead. "Just mind your little assignment for the Torch. I was hoping we'd have more time to trade barbs last night, but I found the Kent boy and the Rosses' son at the Torch instead. Clark, I believe, has the sense to mind his own business. I ask that you extend me the same courtesy."

"Courtesy?" Chloe scoffed at the insulting request. "If you want to call it that. I'm interviewing someone for the Torch today. Stay out of my way, and I'll gladly stay out of yours!"

"Good," Lionel stated. "That is all I ask." He noticed some activity on the stage, and quickly returned to the anteroom on stage right.

The chair of the board, a craggy senator with a few scarce white hairs combed over his balding head, stepped up to the podium. "Before we make a final decision on the merits of Oliver Queen's appeal of the proposed takeover of his West Coast assets, I believe Mr. Queen would like to make a statement. Mr. Queen, if you please?" He looked towards the stage right anteroom.

Oliver Queen, in a charcoal suit and mint-green shirt and tie, strode confidently towards the podium. There was no way that he could escape the glance of Bruce Wayne, who was seated in the front row with Lex and a dozen trade ministers. He found a plain manila folder on the podium, and briefly skimmed its contents. He peeked over the stage at Clark, who struggled to find a niche among the horde of photographers. Clark's optimism seemed to evaporate.

The folder's contents didn't seem to affect Oliver at all.

"This is a disgrace," Bruce mumbled to himself. "I can't believe Ollie's going to ally himself --" He darted his eyes menacingly towards Lionel, who stood off-stage. "— with that!"

"Be patient," Alfred mumbled under his breath. "Miracles do happen."

Clark knelt in front of the stage among the pool of press photographers, each jostling to get the best angle. Several light bulbs flashed. The press had heard rumours of a Queen capitulation. Everyone in the room could sense that something unexpected was about to happen.

In the rear of the room, Chloe tapped her pen nervously against her notepad. She was trying to come up with a few questions for the Capitol Hill intern, but it seemed irrelevant now. As much as she detested the thought, Lionel might be right. History would be made today. Queen Enterprises would be no more, thus opening the first salvo in a global war of annihilation between Lionel and Bruce Wayne. Lionel and Lex implied that Bruce didn't have the stomach for a protracted fight, but Chloe didn't agree with that.

He's got nothing to lose, Chloe concluded. Bruce Wayne would see such a bitter contest to its end … or be destroyed in the process. That probably wasn't what he had planned, but Chloe didn't expect the son of Thomas Wayne to remain idle. There would be a fight, and it would be anything but civil.

It would be an Austerlitz … but for whom?

Lex briefly caught Clark's attention and nodded supportively. He sensed that Clark was just as worried as he was. No one knew what Oliver Queen was going to do. After Clark's attempt to intervene with him at the archery range, Oliver had gone into seclusion. He refused to take any calls or messages. He didn't return his email. It was a decision that affected his life, his future.

Oliver Queen would forge his own destiny, apparently with no input from his closest friends. For the first time during this entire crisis, Lex felt a knot in his belly. Am I actually worried that Ollie is going to shatter our bonds of friendship forever, he thought. He glanced at Bruce's hands, which were clenched angrily on the armrests. In spite of his stubbornness, Bruce was right about one truth: if Oliver were to join LuthorCorp., it would be a betrayal of their friendship.

Choose well, Lex seemed to urge when he stared at Oliver.

Oliver cleared his throat, and sipped a glass of water. "Mr. Secretary of Commerce, ministers of state, members of Congress, ladies and gentlemen," he stammered quietly, "I thank all affected parties for allowing me to privately assess the implications of my appeal to the NAFTA board of review," He glanced quickly at Lionel.

Go on, Lionel's eyes urged him, seal your fate. And that of Bruce Wayne!

Oliver wiped his brow with a mint-green handkerchief. "To all the employees of Queen Enterprises – here and around the world – I extend my affection and respect. My only regret is that the decision I'm about to make might cause you unnecessary concern. It should not, because I see it as a new lease on the life of the company, as I have been granted a second chance to correct the past wrongs in my life …"

Bruce steamed in a controlled fury. Just spit it out, he growled to himself. If you're going to sell out your friends, Oliver, do it now and be done with it.

Oliver pulled out a sheet of paper from his blazer. "I will now read a brief statement, which explains my current position on this appeal, Queen Enterprises and its proposed takeover by LuthorCorp. …"

TheEmerald Archer read that brief statement, which was immediately followed by an explosion of camera flashes and a flurry of questions from the media. Caught in the media scrum, Clark's jaw dropped in surprise. The board chair tried to bring the proceedings to order, with little success. Reporters questions rained upon Oliver, whose statementhad just unleashed a public firestorm.

Chloe shook her head in disbelief. That can't be right, she thought. Is he serious?

Alfred, who had been more involved in this crisis than anyone in the room would ever know, betrayed nothing in his face.

By heaven, he thought. That reckless bloke from Star City has actually done it.


	14. CH 14

(Madison Room, Metropolis Congress Centre)

Lex looked at Clark, who seemed bewildered at Oliver's shocking announcement.

"Is he insane?" Bruce muttered. "Did Oliver just say that he's taking on Lionel Luthor and the full might of LuthorCorp. … all by himself?"

Lex thought about what could drive Ollie to take on such an irrational risk. Queen Enterprises was a mere shadow of its former glory. Even if he liquidated all his assets, properties and cash reserves, he still wouldn't have enough funds to reclaim what LuthorCorp. had taken from him.

"Why?" Lex gasped. "It doesn't make sense!"

Only Alfred didn't seem surprised. "Oliver Queen always thought outside of the box, as some might say," Alfred replied. "Everyone assumed he only had two options …"

"Right," Bruce added. "Either side with us, or side with Lionel. He's decided to take nobody's side! Lionel will pummel what's left of Queen Enterprises into the ground – which leaves us back to square one."

"Wait, I think Alfred's on to something," Lex continued. "So, Alfred, you're saying that Ollie didn't want to be hemmed in by only two choices? That this reckless move is actually intentional?"

"It's quite a daring gambit," Alfred explained. "Ever heard of a Hail Mary pass? Yes, it's foolish, fraught with risk and could still cost him the family firm – but if you and Master Bruce are smart enough to receive that pass – you just might come off with an upset victory. Pay attention, lads. Your collective futures may likely depend on what you do in the next few minutes."

The board chair finally silenced the flurry of reporters' questions. "Mr. Queen," he announced, "you may continue."

Oliver sipped his glass of water, while ignoring Lionel's attempts to interrupt him. "I would like to take this opportunity to apologize – without reservation – to Bruce Wayne. Prior to my disappearance, I made some hurtful remarks about the late Thomas and Martha Wayne – remarks I care not to repeat. We had an argument, and I allowed emotions to get in the way. That is not an excuse for my behaviour. Bruce, if you are prepared to forgive my words spoken in haste – I would welcome the opportunity to become your friend again."

At the back of the room, Chloe tapped her foot anxiously. _Carpe diem_, Bruce, she thought. He's offering you an olive branch.

Ollie's forcing our hand, Lex realized. It was ridiculously dangerous, but brilliant. Oliver was tired of others setting the terms for his future. Now, any arrangement would be on his terms (with the entire continent as his witness).

It was a bold and shrewd move – just like Ollie.

Oliver set aside his prepared speech and launched a fiery, 10-minute tirade against the environmental sins of LuthorCorp., its anti-worker policies in the developing world and questionable investments in the defence industry. Lionel's face froze in a disgusted scowl, as Oliver tore into LuthorCorp.'s reputation in front of the cameras.

Oliver Queen smiled. He was taking back his family fortune. If he were facing corporate suicide, he would take Lionel with him. It was not in Queen's nature to play it safe.

"Based on the questionable corporate values of LuthorCorp.," Oliver continued, "I cannot – in good conscience – lend my family's credibility to an enterprise that stands for everything I oppose. It is my intention to pursue my Chapter 19 appeals under NAFTA to their conclusion, while I assemble a group of like-minded investors from the West Coast to reclaim what is mine by birthright: Queen Enterprises' North American assets."

"It's time to intercept that Hail Mary pass," Lex remarked to Alfred, slapping his shoulder before ascending the stage. He glared at his father before he approached the podium.

"Lex, it's still not too late," Lionel pleaded. "You are a Luthor! Don't forsake blood loyalty just to spite me! Do you really want that charlatan Queen to speak for you?"

"I fear that you've reached your Hyphasis River, Dad," Lex quipped. "Your era of limitless conquest is over." He stood beside Oliver and embraced him, pausing for the cameras.

"I pledge LexCorp.'s resources as a partner in Mr. Queen's quest to regain his family assets – and restore his family's honour," Lex declared.

For a brief moment, Bruce relived the horrific images of his murdered parents. He recalled the anguish he felt, when he realized that he had lost them forever. What hurt more was that their killer was never found. Could he forgive Oliver Queen, even now?

"You can't be angry at Oliver forever." Alfred advised. "Let it go, Master Bruce. Please."

"I don't know if I can," Bruce mumbled, "but Ollie is my friend. He deserves good friends, but I don't know if I deserve his friendship." He cradled the tarnished locket in his blazer pocket, the locket with his parents' faded portrait. Why should Oliver Queen share in the life-long torments that he had no hand in creating? He hesitated.

Clark pushed his way out of the horde of photographers, towards Bruce. "I know you know what needs to be done, Bruce. You and Oliver need to trust each other again. If you're ever going to find peace –"

Bruce interrupted him. "Sometimes, Clark, your persistence borders on annoying, but you're right. No man is an island, even a Wayne. I'd like to find peace – but I'll settle for retribution." He glowered at Lionel, before he stepped onto the stage. He clapped Oliver and Lex on the shoulders.

"I thank Oliver for his apology," Bruce announced at the podium. He squeezed the locket tightly. "It means a lot to me. As soon as I return to Gotham City, I will not rest until I've mobilized enough capital to assist Lex and Oliver's investors in a hostile takeover of those assets LuthorCorp. seized from Queen one year ago. Star City's favourite son is home; I intend to ensure that he has something to come home to." He waved off any further media questions, but the hail of camera flashes continued.

Chloe could barely contain her glee. With the weight of Wayne Enterprises behind Lex and Oliver's acquisition scheme, they could recapture all of Queen's former divisions: R & D, pulp and paper, mining … everything. It would take time – and Lionel would put up one heck of a fight – but LuthorCorp. would be too busy fending off those battles to even think of a global conflict with Bruce's empire.

Lionel shoved his way through the mob of reporters and cameramen. "I take it you are just as surprised as I am. Oliver Queen is a fool. My son and the Wayne boy conned him into this suicidal scheme. He's in for the fight of his life, that I can assure you!"

"Well, it looks like the three emperors over there have re-written history," Chloe taunted. "Was this the Austerlitz you had in mind, Lionel?"

"Wipe that smug grin from your face, Miss Sullivan," Lionel cautioned. "You may not have had a say in this fiasco, but your obligation to me still stands! It would be unfortunate if Gabe found himself without a job after the next round of layoffs. I expect you to uphold your end of our agreement. '_The most dangerous moment comes with victory_,' Napoleon once said. You would be wise to heed that warning."

Chloe refused to yield to him, even with his threat to fire her father. "_It is better to have a known enemy_," she quoted, "_than a forced ally_."

"And what imbecile came up with that trite observation?" Lionel scoffed.

"The same imbecile who once brought Europe to its knees, put his own brother on the throne of Spain and got his revolutionary butt handed to him at Waterloo," Chloe replied sarcastically. "For a student of the great conquerors, you seem to have skipped over the 'lessons learned' chapters!"

Dozens of reporters began to pursue Lionel for a comment. Lionel eyed the anteroom exit. "We'll have our tête-à-tête another time," he stated, before fleeing towards the safety of the anteroom

Chloe felt exhilarated. She had faced Lionel's wrath and – momentarily – prevailed. There would be time to assess the implications of her deal with Lionel, but today she was content. On the stage, Bruce, Lex and Oliver were congratulating each other. Oliver would get his family fortune back, Lex would win another round in his battle against his father … and Bruce would have precious time to solidify his control over Wayne Enterprises.

Clark bounded down the aisle. "Did that just happen? Oliver Queen pulled the rug from under Lionel!"

"If it were anyone else," Chloe replied, "I'd say that was a reckless move. But, this is the infamous Emerald Archer. Risk has always been part of Queen's vocabulary." Reporters for the Smallville Ledger and the Daily Planet jostled to get within earshot of Oliver and his long-time friends. While they gave the media enough sound bites for the six o'clock news, Alfred took the opportunity to exit.

"Well done, Clark," Alfred stated. "Although I don't think we'll ever know if the information in that folder had any influence on Oliver's bold move today." Clarkhad used the pre-hearing confusion to place the folder onto the podium. Whether its revelations had any effect on Oliver's decision was anybody's guess.

Clark said something about "being lucky", but Alfred wasn't paying attention. He carefully watched Lionel, who had extracted himself from a pair of persistent television reporters. Lionel Luthor almost destroyed Bruce's friendship with Oliver, and threatened to undermine Bruce's tentative hold on the family empire.

Lionel has become too brash, Alfred concluded. Someone needs to rein him in. "Lex has offered to entertain Oliver and Bruce after the hearing. I must beg leave to settle unrelated business at Wayne Enterprises' Metropolis offices, but I shall rendezvous in Smallville before we depart. For now, I bid adieu to you, Clark. Miss Sullivan." Alfred nodded towards Chloe, who caught a slight smirk at the corner of Alfred's mouth. They had done more to achieve this small victory than anyone, yet no one could ever know about their private alliance.

Chloe's thoughts distracted her, and she failed to notice the Senate intern from Smallville. "You wanted a few moments, Ms. Sullivan?" he asked.

"Oh, right," blurted Chloe, as she shook his hand. "I wanted to ask about your views on the Pentagon's proposed continental Ballistic Missile Defence and the potential for the weaponization of space. Would that not escalate a new arms race?" Clark couldn't help but laugh. That poor intern didn't know what he got himself into!

He watched as Alfred calmly exited the Madison Room. Mr. Pennyworth paid close attention to Lionel's escape from the media scrum. Oh well, he mused. There was no love lost between Alfred and Lionel: they had been foes since the Thomas Wayne era. Alfred was one spy who had come in from the cold, for good. Clark knew (or wanted to believe) that it was so.

The tension between Alfred and Lionel, it was nothing of concern. Was it?

(Monroe Room, Metropolis Congress Centre)

Lex, Bruce and Oliver managed to escape the mob of reporters and photographers, under the cover of Lex's own security detail. They took refuge in an unused conference room to wait for their limousines to arrive in the private garage below.

Oliver gave Lex a bear hug. "Man, I knew I could count on you!"

"Well, I know a Hail Mary pass when I see one," Lex replied with a big smile. "You're just lucky you had someone to catch it."

Oliver turned to Bruce, who seemed surprised that they had actually beaten Lionel Luthor at his own game. "I wasn't just playing to the press out there, Bruce," he explained. "I am sorry, and I've got no business to expect that my apology will make up for all the pain you've been through."

Bruce squeezed the family locket a little harder. "It means a lot that you said sorry. Alfred says I can be too stubborn for my own good. I have few friends. If I were to lose you – or Lex – as a friend, I honestly don't know what I would do." He gave Oliver a firm handshake.

"I'll remember you said that, Bruce," Lex smirked, with just a hint of irony. "I don't think any of us would want Wayne Enterprises as a foe."

"You're right," Bruce remarked. "You wouldn't."

Suddenly, Oliver gasped. "What is it, Ollie?" Lex demanded. "If you're having second thoughts …"

"I have to find Dinah," Oliver declared. "She's on the congressional security detail, right?"

The now-familiar streak of jealousy ripped through Bruce again. He had let Dinah Lance go, and any notion that he still had a chance with her was a distant memory. "Security is pretty tight around here," he answered, "and in Metropolis. I don't know if Special Agent Lance will be off-duty until long after we're gone."

"I'd advise against trying to see her, Ollie," Lex cautioned. "She's not ready."

"Not ready?" Oliver scoffed. "Thinking of her kept me going all those months in the South Pacific!" He had just thwarted Lionel's schemes, and he was flush with confidence. "I've got to try, Lex. I love her." He bolted from the room to search for Dinah.

Lex feared that he might do something rash. Again. "Ollie!" he hollered after him. "It's too soon. You'll only hurt her!"

Bruce studied the falling crimson, gold and orange leaves outside the window. It would be winter soon, and the nights would be longer. Lonelier. "He may have beaten Lionel today," he concluded, "but he's only setting himself up for disappointment if he thinks he can rekindle what he had with Dinah – as if the last 12 months never happened."

Lex slouched into a nearby chair, and sipped a cup of coffee. "I know. That's what I'm afraid of."

The line between bold and foolhardy is razor-thin, Lex mused. Especially where Oliver Queen's heart is concerned.


	15. CH 15 NEW

(Underground garage, LuthorCorp. headquarters)

As the luxury sedan slowly pulled out of the garage, Alfred swore under his breath.

It would have been too easy.

When Lionel managed to escape from the horde of Metropolis reporters, he took a freight elevator to the waiting limousine at the rear of the Congress Centre. Alfred had kept a close eye on the senior Luthor's movements.

Lex was going to host Oliver and Bruce at the estate, likely for a post-victory drink. There would be time to do what I need to do, Alfred thought. What I have to do, to protect Master Bruce.

Alfred opened the glove compartment of the Wayne company car. He cradled the Walther P99 pistol in his hand. He could easily conceal it in an overcoat pocket. He hesitated only for a moment. He knew what he was going to do.

He was going to kill Lionel Luthor. The endless threats, schemes and plots had to end. Master Bruce deserved peace, and he would never find it if Lionel lurked around every corner to peck away at the Wayne legacy. Thomas Wayne had worked a lifetime to establish one of the most influential corporations on the continent – and Luthor still threatened to usurp it. He may have lost this round, but Lionel would soon return. No love was lost between Bruce's father and Lionel, who now channelled his hatred towards the surviving son.

Bruce is impulsive, Alfred feared. He's not mature enough to cope with Lionel's vindictive plots. Lionel could call despots, military strongmen and mercenaries as his friends – carefully cultivated allies during the Cold War. Lionel could engineer an industrial accident on one of Master Bruce's inspection tours and …

In the cold privacy of the company car, Alfred shrugged away his concerns. He placed the shiny bullets into the pistol's chamber, and placed the gun in his overcoat.

Several hours passed, as Alfred waited in the shadows of the underground garage. The former spy had short-circuited the fuse box in this section of LuthorCorp. The security cameras would be disabled. The garage lights flickered on and off. The building maintenance scurried around upstairs to fix the problem. It would take precisely 10 minutes for the emergency generator to re-activate the cameras and restore full power.

Alfred was afraid that some security guards – or a personal driver – might accompany Lionel to his car. He would have no choice but to abort the scheme. But if Lionel were alone, he would meet his maker this night.

The elevator bell rang. Lionel had arrived – and he was alone.

Lionel scowled at the flickering ceiling lights. "Someone should really look into fixing those," Lionel grumbled. He clicked his door opener. There was a double-chirp sound, as his headlights blinked twice in the darkened garage. He was facing the rear of the car.

I'll see you in hell, Lionel Luthor, Alfred grimaced. He pulled out the pistol, and boldly stepped out from behind the concrete pillar. At this range, he could fire three shots at close range. He would make it look like a mugging, or a hit from one of Lionel's underworld foes. Lionel fumbled with his keys. He was distracted. Three shots – and it would be done.

It was too easy, Alfred thought. He hesitated and remained in the shadows. Lionel still fumbled with his car keys, with his back to Alfred. The man looked comical, even pathetic. He was one of the richest, most powerful men in America – and Alfred took pity on him.

Alfred recalled a trip to a hospital, long ago. The Waynes were pronounced dead on arrival. Young Bruce waited in the hospital waiting room with a nurse, who tried to console the little boy.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Pennyworth," the nurse told him later. "Mr. and Mrs. Wayne didn't survive. They lost too much blood." He could do nothing, except try to comfort Bruce. To this day, their killer was never found.

Alfred willed himself to raise the pistol again, towards Lionel's head. Lionel checked the tire pressure on the rear tires. I could take Lionel's miserable life today, he mused.

But I would know that I had killed him. I won't risk bringing shame upon the Wayne household. I would become everything Master Bruce despised: a cold-blooded ruthless killer who could escape justice.

Lionel sensed that something was amiss. He turned around, but all that he saw was an empty, darkened garage with shadows and flickering ceiling lights. He got into his car, turned on the headlights and slowly pulled out of the garage.

Alfred watched him go. You've been spared Lionel Luthor, he grumbled. I spared you. If you ever put Master Bruce's life in jeopardy, we shall have this final rendezvous.

Alfred shuddered. Such a meeting between them could end with Lionel's brain matter splattered all over the garage wall. It would be too easy to kill him.

* * *

(Heli-pad, roof of Metropolis Congress Centre) 

Lex scrambled up the stairwell. "Ollie! She could be anywhere. You'll never find her!"

Oliver Queen was already two flights above him. "She's got to be on the roof. Dinah would be protecting the congress members! I have to find her!"

Lex paused on a landing to catch his breath. Sometimes, Oliver could be headstrong to the point of frustration. I shouldn't be surprised, he thought. All reason went out the window whenever Dinah Lance was involved.

Oliver finally reached the final flight of stairs. He heard the '_whirr_' of a helicopter, and yanked open the roof exit door.

He froze. A dozen federal agents began to sprint towards him.

"It's alright," a familiar voice announced. "I know him." The agents, still wary, continued to encircle the bewildered man who burst through the roof exit.

Oliver didn't know what to do. "Oliver?" the voice inquired. It was Special Agent Dinah Lance. She was in a crisp, charcoal business suit and pants. Her blond hair was now in a ponytail, but he knew those blue-grey eyes.

"Dinah!" Oliver exclaimed, as he embraced her. "Baby, I missed you. You were the only thing that kept me going all this time." The US Army helicopter began to rumble. The wind from its blades whipped up Dinah's hair in a frenzy. "Special Agent Lance!" another voice hollered. "We must leave. Now."

When Oliver hugged her, Dinah felt paralyzed. It seemed like the past year never happened. Oliver didn't disappear in the South Pacific. She didn't need to reconcile the fact the Queen might have died. She didn't have to move on with her life.

It was a fantasy. All those things happened. She had moved on, even though a part of her wanted this moment to last forever. She could never love him the way he wanted her to.

Not anymore.

"Oh Ollie," Dinah lamented, as she stroked his slightly stubbly face. "I – I can't. I won't. I'm sorry."

"What are you saying?" Ollie demanded loudly, over the growing '_whirr_' of the helicopter blades. "Dinah, what are you trying to tell me?!"

Dinah thought she might lose her resolve. She couldn't go through it again. She had lost Ollie one year ago. She had found a sense of peace now. Ollie's sudden appearance threatened to scuttle that forever. What they had was no more.

"I can't love you," Dinah yelled over the helicopter blades. She took a deep breath. "It's over, Ollie. I've moved on."

Oliver gasped. For a moment, he feared that Dinah had finally fallen for Bruce Wayne. "You've left me … for Bruce?" he wondered.

"No," Dinah replied. Her superior continued to call her over to the helicopter. She had run out of time. "It's not a question of choosing you over Bruce, or anyone! You were gone, and now you're back. Too much time has passed. I need time alone. To heal. It's over between us. I can't go through this now." She pulled herself free from Oliver's embrace, and sprinted to the helicopter.

Oliver tried to pursue her, but federal agents blocked him. Lex arrived on the roof to witness the departure of the army helicopter.

Minutes later, Dinah glanced behind her. Ollie and Lex remained on the heli-pad. This wasn't how she had wanted it to end. But it had to end. It wasn't fair for Ollie to expect that they could pick up where they left off. But, she did love him.

"Agent Lance?" her supervisor hollered over the helicopter blades. "Are you alright?"

Dinah fought off the tear in her eye. She wiped it abruptly with her coat sleeve. "I'm fine. It's the wind, sir. That's all."

"Did you find her?" Lex asked, as the wind ruffled his overcoat. "Did you find Dinah Lance?"

"I lost her, Lex," Ollie gasped. "She's left me. It's over. I survived one year on tropical fish, mangoes and god knows what else. I fought to reclaim my family honour, my empire. Nothing matters now. Dinah's left me, Lex. I've lost her."

Then he wept bitterly. He had not allowed himself to grieve for all the suffering he had endured. He had buried it. But Dinah's rejection was more than he could bear. A part of him understood that he could never make Dinah love him unconditionally again. It was still hard to take, after all that had happened.

Lex hugged his good friend. "It's too soon, Ollie. If it's meant to be, it'll happen. One day. You just need a little patience."

Ollie sniffed bitterly, atop that isolated roof. He hadn't lost her to Bruce, but he had lost her. The choice wasn't his. He had to let her go. Maybe Dinah and I aren't meant to be, he realized.


	16. CH 16 NEW

(Smallville town square, Smallville)

Lana Lang cradled the large bouquet of flowers. She was going to place fresh flowers at the stone monument at the centre of town. The monument honoured those Smallville citizens who had died during the horrific meteor shower in 1989, including her parents.

She was surprised to find Clark and Bruce there. Lex, Bruce and Oliver had spent last night at the Luthor estate celebrating their victory over Lionel. Clark had stopped by to visit them, but came home early.

"I felt just like a fly on the wall," Clark explained later. "They probably saw more of me this whole week than they would like."

Lana placed the flowers in front of the monument. Bruce had already laid a wreath, wrapped with big, blue ribbon embossed with the words: _From the Wayne Foundation, in memory of those whose lives were lost in Smallville, 1989_.

"The mayor offered to have a formal ceremony," Bruce stated, "but I'm not a fan of pomp and circumstance. A quiet moment is more of my style."

"It's important to remember those who have gone on before us," Lana replied.

In his pocket, Bruce clutched the precious tarnished locket with his parents' photo. "Yes, it is important to remember. They made us who we are today."

"It was all a blur when they buried my parents," Lana replied. "I was only a child then. I don't think I really understood how much they meant to me until I was a little older. It was a mix of feelings. Anger, sadness, frustration, anxiety. It was definitely a confusing time in my life."

"And how did you deal with it?" Bruce wondered. Clark grinned slightly. He had hoped that Lana's experiences might help Bruce cope with the loss of his own parents.

"I don't think you ever stop dealing with it," Lana replied. She adjusted the bouquet of flowers beside the Wayne wreath. "I mean, I'm mad that the meteor shower killed my parents, but I know that it was a freak of nature. Nothing could have stopped it." Clark winced at that last sentence. His arrival in Smallville had caused all this destruction, and he couldn't bring himself to admit that to anyone. Not even to Lana Lang.

"It just doesn't make sense to stay angry at something which you have no control over," Lana admitted. She beamed at Bruce. "It's too exhausting to remain angry forever. We have to get on with our lives, and I know my parents wouldn't want me to live my life with clenched fists all the time."

"Then you've found your peace," Bruce muttered. "That is something … I can never hope to have."

"But why not?" Clark insisted. "It's not your fault that your parents were killed in Crime Alley – anymore than it wasn't Lana's fault the meteors killed her parents."

"It's not the same," Bruce argued. "I'm sorry to be so blunt, Lana. I know you and Clark only want to help. But it is not the same. The meteor shower, as you said, was a freak of nature. An act of God. There was no malice behind those terrible deaths. It was an accident. You can deal with an accident."

Bruce strolled around the monument. The sky was bleak with grey clouds and a howling wind. "My parents' death was no accident. There's a piece of scum out there who planned to rob my parents. He shot them in cold blood. And for what? A few dollars and a pearl necklace? My life as I knew it ended the day they told me my parents were murdered. That's no act of God. It's a crime! And crimes must be punished."

"But you said they never found the killer," Clark replied. "When are you going to let go of that anger? That hate? There's nothing you can do about it."

Bruce studied the names of the victims engraved on the monument. Accidents could be explained. Crimes, however, demanded action. Retribution. "That's where you're wrong Clark. I can do something about it. I can make sure that what happened to me doesn't happen to anyone else. Ever."

Clark didn't understand what Bruce meant, but he was always cryptic about such things.

"Please don't misunderstand, Lana," Bruce explained. "I'm glad you've found a way to deal with the loss of your parents. I'm just not there at this point. I may never find that peace. It's a journey I have to travel, alone."

Lana squeezed Bruce's arm supportively and walked down the main street to the Talon.

"You're not alone, Bruce," Clark clapped him on the shoulder. "You'll always have friends in Smallville."

"I know, and thank you," Bruce replied. He looked around the square. "Clark, have you seen Alfred?"

"No, I haven't," Clark answered. He left Bruce at the monument and drove around. He looked everywhere in town. The Wayne company car was nowhere to be seen. At the hearing, Alfred seemed to be preoccupied with Lionel's movements. Clark shrugged it off at the time, but now he was concerned. Lionel was Thomas Wayne's enemy, and it remained Alfred's duty to regard Lionel with contempt. Would Alfred Pennyworth – a former British soldier and intelligence agent – set aside his butler duties and take the law into his own hands?

He stopped his truck near the Talon. The Wayne company car was there, but Alfred wasn't around. Clark looked around the street. Everyone had stayed indoors, since the weather was getting worse. He used his x-ray vision to examine the car's glove compartment. If the pistol wasn't there, that meant that Alfred was going to do the unthinkable.

He gasped. The pistol appeared to be gone! Then, he checked the other glove compartment. He sighed in relief: the Walther P99 was encased in the compartment. The bullets were undisturbed. The former British spy didn't take up his lethal profession. He hoped Alfred's past life would stay where it belonged – beneath the rubble of the Berlin Wall.

In the Talon, Alfred savoured the Earl Grey tea and scones. Compliments of Chloe Sullivan.

"I tried to contact you after the hearing," Chloe said, "but you disappeared. You weren't with Bruce and the others, so where did you go?"

Alfred paused. He wanted to tell her that he was so close to crossing the line between guardian and scoundrel. That he was planning to kill Lionel. But those were his personal demons. He would answer for those deeds on Judgment Day, not now. And he certainly would not answer to an inquisitive high school student from rural Kansas.

"Unrelated business," Alfred replied abruptly. "At Wayne Enterprises' offices in Metropolis."

Chloe shrugged. "Oookay. I'll buy that. I gather that you didn't invite me here for afternoon tea and to discuss Prince William's succession to the English throne?"

Alfred pulled out a wrapped box. "I wanted to give you something. In gratitude for your work. You took quite a few risks. You shouldn't have to take on such dangers. In heaven's name, you're not even 18!"

Chloe smiled and opened the shiny box. "Trust me, in a town like Smallville, danger is always around the corner." A large, hardcover book was inside. A shiny, metallic bookmark and a loose-leaf paper were tucked in the front cover. She read the cover of the spy novel: _The Little Drummer Girl,_ by John Le Carre.

There was a hand-written inscription on the loose-leaf paper:

"_To my little drummer girl, Chloe,_

_For standing your ground and keeping the faith._

_It was an honour to serve beside you._

_With affection,_

_Falconer_"

Suddenly, Chloe realized that she was not alone. Lionel could threaten her and her dad, the secrets in Smallville may yet plunge the entire town into chaos … yet, she had survived. Her secretive work with Alfred had proved to her that it was alright to fight for what you believe in. Even if the world seemed to be against you. She choked back a tear.

"I – I don't know what to say," Chloe stammered. She studied the elaborate, metal bookmark. It was embossed with an icon of a female knight in medieval armour, with a cross in one hand and a sword in the other. Underneath the icon was a banner: Ste. Jeanne d'Arc.

"Joan of Arc?" Chloe beamed. "The bookmark, it's beautiful!"

"Warrior maid of Orleans," Alfred added, "Scourge of the English and saviour of the French Crown. Burned at the stake, but immortal in legend. She stood for what she believed in, whatever the cost. I immediately thought of you. It was a gift from a lady-friend of mine in France."

"A 'lady friend', eh?" Chloe inquired coyly. "Oh, do tell."

"As you've long known," Alfred joked, "my private life is out of bounds of your inquiries, Miss Sullivan."

Chloe snapped up one of the last scones. "So I'm back to being Chloe Sullivan, editor of the Torch. Nothing but updates on cheerleader tryouts, the school play and the winter formal. Exciting stuff, eh?"

Alfred sipped one last drop of tea. "I suspect far greater things from you, Chloe. You might be a high school editor and I might be a mere butler, but we are comrades-in-arms now. You will always be my friend in Smallville. I'd be honoured if I could be your friend in Gotham City."

Chloe smiled from ear-to-ear and hugged Alfred. "I'm going to miss you, Alfred," she replied, barely containing her sadness. She always felt safe with him around. Once Bruce and Alfred left, she would be alone once more to battle Lionel's schemes.

"Thank you, Chloe," replied a misty-eyed Alfred, "for showing an old cold warrior what it means to fight for the truth again."

"I'm concerned," Chloe admitted. "About what lies ahead." She held her breath, but it was too late. The fearful words just came out.

"Know this, Chloe," Alfred replied sternly, "If Lionel ever threatens you, Clark or your friends, I will consider that an assault against Master Bruce himself. Lionel and I will have a reckoning one day, and he will rue the day he threatens any friend of Bruce's. If you're ever in peril, please call my personal number. It's untraceable, as you know."

He put on his fedora hat and walked towards the Talon exit. He paused at the door. "Chloe? Can you trust Lex? Is he what he seems to be?"

Chloe was caught off-guard by the inquiry. "Umm, Lex? He hates Lionel more than anyone! Whether I'd trust him with my life is another story."

"Perhaps you have more allies than you realize," Alfred suggested mysteriously. He tipped his hat. "I bid you adieu, Miss Sullivan." He waved goodbye and drove away. Bruce and Oliver were due to fly today to Star City, where they would begin their campaign to reclaim the rest of Queen's empire from LuthorCorp.

Chloe thought about what Alfred said. Maybe I do have some allies, even here in Smallville.

* * *

(Smallville main street, Smallville) 

Pete and Oliver returned from a morning of motocross racing, with their cycling jerseys covered in mud.

Clark grinned at his filthy friends. "How was the motorbike race?"

Oliver grinned. "Your buddy, Pete, gave me a run for my money! Maybe this spring, you guys can come over to the west coast. We can hit the California racing circuit."

"Man, that sounds too cool!" Pete smiled. "This summer's gonna be awesome, Clark." He raced back to the Torch office. Clark was happy that Pete finally got the chance to meet his extreme sports idol. He couldn't spend more time with Ollie because of the Crows' playoff run. Unfortunately, the Huskies squeaked by the Crows 61-58. The Crows' basketball season was over, but their post-season run gave Pete plenty of by-lines in the Torch.

Alfred had arrived with the car. Bruce was slowly making his way back from the monument.

"Hi Alfred," Clark shook the butler's hand. "I'm sorry we didn't get a chance to hang out more, with the hearing and everything. I hope you were able to get your stuff done in Metropolis."

Alfred thought about how close he was to killing Lionel in the underground garage. He had averted a disaster, for now. "Everything has unfolded as it should. You're a good friend to him, Clark. Perhaps you should consider visiting Master Bruce in Gotham City again. He would be pleased if you did."

Clark was relieved that Alfred had left his high-stakes spying career in the past. "Maybe someday."

Bruce greeted Clark with a wave, and shook his hand. "I'm sorry I can't stay longer, but Ollie, Lex and I have much work ahead of us. It's going to take some time, but I think we can get Queen Enterprises back. Lex had to return to Metropolis, but he's going to join us in Star City tomorrow. Then, the battle for Queen's legacy begins."

"Take care of yourself, Bruce," Clark shook Bruce's hand again. "You know, I'm only a phone call or email away."

"One other thing, Clark," Bruce picked up a file from the backseat of the car. "I'm working on some plans, nothing concrete yet. It's a non-governmental organization. I haven't decided if it's going to be UN-affiliated or something independent. I've already got Ollie on board, plus some of the country's leading scientists, Olympians and thinkers. If it gets off the ground, we could do some good in the world."

Clark skimmed through the file. "That's great! Uhh, what is it?"

"Tell me what you think," Bruce waved goodbye, as he stepped into the backseat of the car with Oliver, "and we'll see where we go from there. I'd like your honest opinion on it."

When the Wayne company car pulled away from the curb, Chloe arrived from the Talon and nudged Clark in the shoulder.

"More proofreading homework from Bruce Wayne?" Chloe inquired. "With Oliver Queen on your phone list, you now have a hat trick of billionaire buddies! Very interesting. There's something about you, Clark Kent, that you're not telling me."

"I'm just a likeable guy, that's all," Clark grinned sheepishly. Somehow, he managed to salvage his friendship with Lex, Bruce and Oliver – despite the odds.

"I guess so!" Chloe replied. "My interview with that Capitol Hill intern from Smallville turned out okay: he waffled on continental ballistic missile defence, but I think the Crows' surprise playoff run wins the coveted banner headline. I'll probably have to console Pete over the Crows' loss to the Huskies, but I think his front-page story will make him feel better. I'll see you at the Torch."

Clark walked towards his truck, browsing through the hefty file from Bruce.

Clark read its contents: "_A proposal for the formation of a Society dedicated to the pursuit of Justice for all Americans_." It sounded impressive.

"The group could be called a 'league for justice', or maybe a 'justice society of America'," Clark wondered aloud. It was a massive undertaking, and Clark wasn't sure what to make of it or where this Justice Society might lead.

But a justice society seemed like a great idea to him.

**THE END**


End file.
